Message-ID: <45247asstr$1068448203@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Message-ID: <011601c3a6f2$e3336ac0$9dada50c@Ray1031> From: "Ray" MIME-Version: 1.0 Content-Transfer-Encoding: 7bit X-Priority: 3 X-MSMail-Priority: Normal X-MIMEOLE: Produced By Microsoft MimeOLE V6.00.2800.1165 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Sun, 9 Nov 2003 13:54:21 -0500 Subject: {ASSM} [Blanket - Free] Cammy's First Raise (Mast, Voy, NC?) By Ray1031 X-Original-Subject: {Blanket - Free} Cammy's First Raise (Mast, Voy, NC?) By Ray1031 Date: Mon, 10 Nov 2003 02:10:03 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: RuiJorge, dennyw Pay Raise Time: Cammy's First Raise (Mast, Voy, NC?) by Ray1031 "Boss, can I talk to you?" I looked up, it was Cameron Nhite. Cameron is a college sophomore who had come to work for me last October, shortly after the current school year had begun. I pushed myself back from my computer desk and swiveled my chair to face her. "Close the door and take a seat Cammy." She turned back to the door and I let my eyes rove up and down her ripe, petite young body. 'Was it finally time?' I thought to myself, watching her movements. She was wearing a bright yellow tank top like thing today, over her normal low-cut, underwire bra and the two left lots of cleavage for the viewing, leaving hardly anything for people's imaginations. Just below her breasts that top squeezed in tight to her young body, sculpting her form to just above her navel where her own skin pushed out, ever so slightly, below the hem of that top. A short expanse of tanned skin, and her short skirt began low on her hips, a kind of green plaid wrap around number with lines of yellow and white interlaced through the pattern. Barely covering an excellent firm butt, that skirt tipped and wriggled and flounced, jerking and bouncing this way and that with her movements as she walked about in the store. The day she had stood in my office and passed over her application I had decided I was going to have that body. I own two stores, side by side with one another. The Harley Davidson motorcycle shop next door and this one, selling portable spas, hot tubs and patio furniture. Tables, chairs, umbrellas and the like. This store did a booming business when compared to the other. Two large warehouses I'd put up behind the two shops, insured I could buy in enough volume that my inventory cost me only about a third of what I charged for it. In all honesty, the Harley Davidson shop, most often, barely paid for itself, but it was a labor of love for me. I had opened this store in an effort to support it and keep it open during some of the lean years. Since then, the Patio and Spa Shoppe had become my primary money maker. I had twelve employees between the two stores. Four in the Harley store, two sales people, a mechanic and Samantha, a woman I'd gone to High School with ten years ago. She managed the place, acted as a sales woman, mechanic, display arranger, just about everything that was needed. Except the books, that was my bailiwick. Here, I had one permanent sales person, Old Tom. At forty-eight, Tom was twenty years my senior and one hell of a salesman. He'd caused me to be caught by the short hairs a couple of times, because he would lie through his teeth to a customer to make a sale. But the sheer volume of his sales - and my profit margin because of it - made him a valued employee. He'd have a job here as long as he wanted to stay. Assisting Tom were six 'temps', as I called them. All females, they came from the universities and colleges in the county. All attractive, all with great bodies, if somewhat more marginal sales skills, their sex appeal and eyelash batting alone helped them in the sales department. I considered them temporary employees because they were all, intentionally, from out of state and always left after they graduated, if not before. The store attracted them because my starting sales staff wage was three and four dollars more an hour than any other store in the area. Plus I paid them a seven percent commission - starting. Still, in a college area like this one, it was barely enough to make ends meet for them, unless they were phenomenal sales people from the get go. Their hours, starting, were always in the part-time range until they 'established themselves' with me. Cammy had yet to do so . . . she was the only one of the sales girls I had not screwed yet. Cammy pulled out one of the padded plastic chairs I keep in the office for sales people and employees who wanted to talk. Setting it at an angle to mine, so her legs would not point directly at me, she sat, crossed her nearer leg over the further one, and placed her hands in her lap. "Now, what can I help you with today?" I asked her. "I hope I'm not being too blunt about this, but what does a girl have to do to get more hours and a raise around here?" "Do you think you deserve a raise?" "Well, yeah. I mean, I've been working here for six months now and I've gotten good enough that I'm selling more . . . I'm always on time . . . I try to do more around the store than a couple of the other's seem to do, and yet I know Becky, who started the same time I did, has gotten two pay raises since then while I have gotten none. I like it here, but I need more money." "Rebecca also brings a suit with her and spends a couple of hours daily 'demonstrating' our tubs. You do not. Her sales are mostly made while she is sitting in the spa demonstrating it for her customers. I have yet to see you do more than dip a hand in one. Rebecca also stays late every week or so and helps me with some things, as do all of the other girls, and you have yet to volunteer for extra duties. Rebecca also volunteered to be in my last set of commercials for airing on the local cable network. True, you are always on time, your sales have improved - some, and you are always neat and tidy. But I'm not sure you have the true commitment to your position here that the others have shown." "What commitment? Pardon me, but Sheila hardly ever lifts a dust rag or a broom. I've never seen her restock a shelf or help with the displays. If there is not a customer in the store, she's in the break area stuffing her face and reading one of her romance novels. She and Taffy have also never been in the spas that I've seen and, though she will help with the display arrangements and set ups, Taffy seems to not be much better than Sheila over-all. Besides, though they have been here longer, I believe I out sell both of them." "You're right, about both of them when it comes to store cleanliness, and they are both lousy at maintaining the chemical balances in the spas and I have forbidden both from ever testing a customers water chemistry. But they both have fantastic computer skills. Sheila maintains and updates all of the store's computer inventory and price lists. While Taffy was the designer of and does all of the weekly updates for our web site. All of the other girls take their turns in the tubs during business hours, all wearing their skimpy suits. Rumors around town of their modeling the tubs, and of their skimpy suits, helps draw in some of our customers. So, the skimpier the better I say." "That's sexist." "Probably. But it's also a simple fact and it's good for business. Besides, getting back to Sheila and Taffy, Sheila gives a great blow job and Taffy likes it up the ass . . . what are you doing for me?" "What?" "The other girls, 'all' of the other girls, help themselves towards pay raises and full-time status here by helping to take care of my sexual needs. Wednesday, when we were closed, Rebecca and Jennifer came in and put on a kind of lesbian strip and sex show for me, even letting me film it . . . I didn't know a girl could do that with a beer bottle. I repeat, though, what have you done for me?" "That's sexual harassment." "According to the courts, maybe. But, in point of fact, it is part of my raise policy here and a fact of life you'll have to deal with if you ever want a raise . . . or, since we are having this conversation, if you even wish to continue your employment here. I am giving you your two-week notice right now. (If you want to keep your job here, and if you want to receive raises, you will begin granting me sexual favors in the next two weeks or you will be let go and forced to find employment elsewhere. You should go back to work now and think about it." "But that's not fair." "Maybe not, but it is the way things stand." "But, I'm a virgin . . . I've never . . ." "Then you can give me blow jobs - if you are any good at them, or take it up the ass - like Taffy does, or give me a daily strip and a hand job . . . but you will do something." "And if I report you?" "This conversation was done one on one, behind closed doors. There are no witnesses and if you try to press matters, the other girls will not back you up. If a police officer shows up here, I will claim that you came in and offered me sexual favors in return for a raise I felt you did not deserve. I informed you, when you made such and offer, of my intent to terminate your employment and your false charges must be your way of striking back at me. Before you leave today I will be giving you a written declaration of my intent to let you go and a copy will be entered into your employment records. You have two weeks . . . now get out of my office and back to work . . . or leave, which I will accept as your desire to quit outright." She was crying when she left and I used the intercom to call the front sales desk, asking Sheila to prepare an intent to terminate letter for Cammy, to present her with it and place a copy in the girl's employment file. I was nine days later, a Tuesday night, and the store was already closed. I was finishing up the day's receipts at my computer and looking forward to going out front and joining Linda in the big display tub. She'd said she would stay late for an hour or two tonight. I was taking my time intentionally . . . Linda always started without me and the longer I gave her the hotter she would be when I arrived to join her. Linda was not my favorite, in fact, she was kind of scrawny, her tits were too small, her face too thin - dominated by a overlarge hooked nose, and her pussy was kind of loose and sloppy when I fucked her . . . but get her started, or let her get herself started, and she was a very high energy fuck. I closed the file and sighed. It was looking like Cammy was not going to take me up on my proposition. I'd seen her around the store the days she had worked and, though I had not spoken to her any differently than before our raise meeting, she had always turned away from me. The only time she had spoken to me since was when she was forced to, for special lower pricing on a furniture set she was selling. 'Too bad,' I thought as I rose from my chair. 'I think she could have been my favorite . . . she has the potential, whether she knows it or not.' I walked onto the display floor and received a surprise. Linda was not there waiting for me, but Cammy was, lounging fully clothed in one of the larger 'dry' display tubs. "Hello, Cammy. You're here a little late aren't you?" "I asked Linda to let me stay in her place." she said, a somewhat sheepish smile on her face. "What do you want to do to me?" My suspicions were aroused. Though it was what I wanted, what I had hoped for, there was something about her supposed casualness and her words that put me on my guard. She would not be the first one to try and trap me, if that is what she was trying to do. There was a way to find out though. I moved behind the sales counter and reached below the cash register without responding. Turning on the store's Public Address systems I flipped on the radio and turned up the volume. The musical selections from one of the area's easy listening stations filled the inside of the store and I turned the dial to a more upbeat rock and roll station I actually preferred. My eyes had never left hers where she lay in the tub's molded lounger and I held up one hand waggling my fingers at her, calling her over. Her expression was puzzled, but she moved, standing and exiting the tub, moving to where I stood behind the counter. Her hands moving to the lowest buttons on the rather staid blouse she was wearing that day. I stopped her, both her forward movement and her fingers on the buttons with a hand signal. "Stand there." I moved about the store then, ostensibly turning out lights as I went, but looking around inside for hidden video or other equipment, checking outside, around the store, through the windows as I darkened the interior lighting - looking for possible watchers. I might be about to have a six month old dream finally coming true, but that didn't make me completely stupid. When I was done, and I was fairly certain that there was nothing and no one set to capture what was about to happen, I returned to Cammy and signaled for her to follow me. She started to speak, licked her lips and opened her mouth to do so and I stopped her, holding a finger to my lips in a sign for silence before leading her into the back room. This was the repair shop and staging area, a room I spent three or four hours in a day, repairing those things that needed it and working with one of the temp girls to prepare new hot tubs for display on the sales floor. There was a new one here today, a line out of Canada that we had not carried before but I was willing to try. The molded fiberglass shell was done in a white marble finish and had only just had the protective plastic shipping wrap removed that afternoon. Since it was the first tub from this company in our store, I planned to spend most of tomorrow going over it in detail. Mostly disassembling to insure it was good enough to be sold here. The music levels were even louder in this room than they had been out front. If she were wired for sound, all that would be coming through was radio noise. I signaled her to get into the tub and she did so, leaning to lift one leg over the side wall and then resting her butt on it to left the trailing leg inside. That was one of the things I liked about her, one of the things that really turned me on. Her height, or lack of it. It had been her petite size and almost little girl looks that had fascinated me from the start. That and the large grown-woman tits, on her twenty year old body. that wanted to spill out of her clothing the day I hired her. I think she always wore the clothing she did, the tight cleavage-displaying tops, sprayed on jeans and short skirts, as much to announce to the world that she was a woman and not a little girl, as for any other reason. Her little girl looks, atop that mature if tiny body, were part and parcel of what I thought made her successful in the sales game. Male customers would be fascinated by her movements and body as she led them about the store, distracting them a bit from the exact details of her sales pitch at times. Those who thought they could bully this little girl into a lower price usually talked themselves into a higher one, whether they realized it or not. I'd watched her do it. With women, she turned on the little girl charm and moved to de-sentuate her body, regardless of her clothing. When she was standing in the middle of the tub I leaned forward and placed my hands on it's edge, speaking too softly for her to hear me over the music. She leaned forward, across the lounger and positioned herself to the left of me, hands also on the tub's top edge. I reached across with my right hand and slipped it under her hair, pushing it back from the side of her face, her ear and placing my hand across the back of her neck. She shrank back a bit at my touch, then leaned forward deliberately, closer to my face and into my touch. It probably seemed to her that I was trying for a better look at her face, or was making some gentle contact in prelude to things starting. What I was actually doing was checking for anything on her ear, her collar, or wires at the back of her neck . . . sound equipment that cops used - like in the movies. I found none and leaned close to her ear. Speaking softly, so my voice would not carry over the music, I said, "Before we do one thing more, you need to say yes to something for me. You can speak or nod your head, whatever you wish, but I need a response. Do you understand what I am saying?" It took a moment, but she nodded her head. "I want to know that you are doing this by your own ultimate choice." Again the pause and her head began to move. "Wait, before you answer. Understand, yes . . . I am pressuring you, have pressured you to where you are now, but the final choice 'is' yours. You can say no and go somewhere else to work. I am not going to rape you or keep you from leaving. I want to know, I want you to know that you are doing this because you want to stay here and that it is your 'choice' to do so. You may answer now." "I want to stay here, to work for you. It is my choice to do this." If there was a microphone on her, she just said some magic words for me that was probably much better picked up than any words of mine. Any microphone she was wearing was likely taped to her ribs, beneath her clothing and would have picked up her voice, her words directly from her body. "Okay, you may remove your clothing now, down to your panties. Stand in the center of the tub." She moved back and very matter of factly removed her blouse, skirt, tennis shoes and white ankle socks. She had not been wearing a bra which had surprised me. She stood for a moment, her breasts seeming to point somewhat away from one another on her narrow chest, there was a single dark mole on the inside curve of her right breast. She brought her hands up, crossing them at the wrists below her breasts, as each reached to the opposite breast and covered it, lifting it slightly as it did so. Glancing down, she was wearing a pair of blue and white checked panties, looking for all the world like the same pattern as an old gingham apron my grandmother used to wear while baking. I saw no wires or devices anywhere about her, nor had there been signs of any in those articles of clothing she had removed. I finally allowed myself to relax and simply look at her, at her charms. "Raise your arms above your head," I said. She looked at me for a minute then complied, smiling slightly as she did so. Her breasts rising on her chest as her arms straightened, moving closer together as they rose. She straightened her arms completely, grasping her right wrist with her left hand and turning partly sideways where she stood. She didn't push out her chest or arch her back the way so many women would, but stood relaxed before me. After a moment, she did raise her right foot and place it on the edge of the seat behind her, causing her legs to part and the panties to pull more conformingly against the mound of her pussy. A mound it was too, her pelvis seeming to push both forward and down from her flat belly as she stood there almost bulging against the material between her legs. There was a small tattoo on the inside of her right ankle and had she not raised and supported the foot I would have missed it. It was a small butterfly and would normally have been hidden by her socks. "Spin for me. Turn in place and let me see all of you. Then, sit down and lounge back." She turned slowly in place where she stood and stopped when her back was towards me. Reaching behind her she slipped her thumbs into the waistband of her panties and slid them down a bit. I was about to tell her not to remove them, but she stopped on her own, just after another small tattoo had come into view. It was an eye. She had the tattoo of an eye, complete with makeup, just at the top of her ass crack, below her spine and her tan line. She arched, tipping her shoulders backwards and somehow pushing her butt up and the thing narrowed. It was as if it were either looking at me, or trying to wink at me, I didn't know which. She completed her turn and said, "Lots of boys have seen my butterfly, and a few have seen my third eye, though very few. I have a third tattoo as well and no boy has ever seen it yet. Do you want to see it?" She was smiling as she talked and had slowly lowered herself into a seated position across form me, sitting on the edge of the molded seat and lounging back against the far wall of the spa. "Where is it?" I asked and she pointed to an area beneath her panties, a little above and to the left of her pussy. "Not just yet. I'll see it a little later, either tonight or another time. I have some very specific things I want you to do just now though, so it will wait. Tell me, do you masturbate?" "What?" "You told me you are a virgin. But I know you will have had urges and needs over the years like any other woman, so the question is, do you masturbate? It's perfectly common, both men and women do it." "Her eyes lowered a bit and she said, yes, yes I do. Sometimes." "Raise your feet to the seat on this side of the tub, spreading your legs a bit. I want to see between them." She raised her legs and placed her toes on the near seat edge, spreading her legs widely. I thought I saw a slightly darker streak in the pattern of her panties. "Is this exciting you a little?" "A little, yes. I had thought I would hate it, even though, once I decided to go through with it, I tried telling myself I might as well enjoy it, I didn't think I would. But there's something about it, not having a choice and all, that I find kind of exciting. Oh, and I'm not, not now." "Not what?" "Not a virgin. Saturday night, knowing I would be doing this and hearing horror stories from girlfriends in High School about pain, I decided to do it myself. My roommate was out on a date so I borrowed her vibrator and oil, then I masturbated until I orgasmed. I thought I never would, as tense as I was, but I finally did and in the middle of it I deflowered myself." "Did it hurt?" "Not as much as I thought it would. The orgasm helped I think, that is why I did it that way. Someone told me it was easier." "Have you put anything else inside of you since?" "Only the vibrator again. I was a little stiff Sunday, so I waited until last night." "What did you think of it?" "It felt a little funny, kind of full, but not too bad. This is making me hornier, can we move on to something else?" "Getting the urge to masturbate are you?" She blushed, the red rising into her face from her neck. "Yeah, kind of." "Then go ahead . . . masturbate." "What? Right here in front of you?" "That's the idea. But you don't have to remove or move your panties . . . you can do it inside of them. I'll just watch for now. Close your eyes if you wish." She didn't though, but kept here eyes locked on mine as she began rubbing her pussy through her panties. I stood by and watched. Two, three minutes passed before there was any real change to her actions, though the fingers did change their motions often, going from a straight stroke, to a circling motion, full four finger pressure to a single finger or the two center ones only. After a few minutes, during which she hardly seemed to blink, the moisture levels in her panties increased and they began to drag more. When the panties began hanging up between her vaginal lips as she stroked herself, her hands changed their positions. Until now, her left hand had been doing all of the stroking while her right was curled over the edge of the plastic spa seat. It never really moved or changed position, though the knuckles and fingertips had whitened a time or two as she increased her grip on the seat. Now though, her eyes closed for a minute and her breath caught, the right hand curling quickly from the seat beside her and up to her breasts as the rubbing actions of her left hand began becoming more rapid. Her panties seemed to be troubling her though and as her right hand began pulling and squeezing at a nipple, her left began pushing at the waistband of her panties. With her hand out of the way I could see the crotch of her panties clearly for the first time since she had begun. The material was soaked and plastered to her skin. It gave a perfect outline of what lay beneath having molded itself to her shape and become partly translucent in the bargain. There was the hint of hair at the top of her slit, and it made me happy to see that she wasn't one of those clean shavers. There was a crease in the center of the material that disappeared between her pussy lips. Her left hand finally made it inside of her panties though, pulling the fold free of her crease as her fingers pushed in for more direct contact. Her eyes opened again and she pinched her nipple between her finger and the knuckle of her forefinger, pulling it almost savagely, lifting the breast and making a funnel shape of her areola. The nipple slipped from her grip and snapped back into her chest. She took a fresh hold, her fingers seeming to squeeze tighter tighter than before, her hand pull harder. The breast, nipple and areola all stretched, seeming to thin slightly as she forcibly elongated them. Her mouth opened and her eyes narrowed, I thought that a man doing something that savagely would be painful and abusive to her, rather than stimulating. The breast burst free of her grip, practically flying back to her chest like an overstretched balloon suddenly being released. It seemed to bounce there and wobble about a bit, but only for a second or so as her hand returned to it immediately, grasping as much of it as she was able and squeezing until her knuckles began to whiten. "You should get the panties out of the way now." and both of her hands came free, diving to the crotch of her panties, the nails digging in as she stretched and pulled at the fabric. It seemed that the fabric would win the little test of wills, but finally a thread parted, a nail bit more deeply and the panties tore across the crotch from leg seam to leg seam. One edge flapped loosely against the fiberglass below her buttocks, while she tore the front panel back until her pussy and much of the abdomen her panties had covered were bared. Once bared, I found that my impressions had been right on two counts and I examined her closely as she placed her hands onto her upper thighs and smiled at me across the small distance. Her pussy mound did indeed push both forward and downwards from her crotch, and would have seemed very childlike were it not for the hair above and the long hood that protruded from the narrow crack. The hair too was there, as I'd thought, but not hardly appearing as I thought it would. She had shaved and trimmed it into a perfect letter 'V', each wing of the letter angling upwards along the angle of her thigh, just inside of a tan-line. It looked almost like an arrow pointing the way towards her goodies. She had begun to slide her hands inwards, slowly lowering them around her thighs to the apex of her crotch once more. A thought seemed to strike her and she looked down at herself. Her lower lip coming out in a pout, she took her right hand free and grabbed the torn panties again, tearing them further to the right, above the angle of her thigh. A tattoo appeared, just inside of the tan line, a little above that wing of the 'V'. She held back the flap of panty and looked at me, being sure I saw it before returning her hand to her thigh. It had been a tattoo of Mickey Mouse . . . Mickey Mouse with one arm raised, fist closed and center finger extended, while his mouth was open in his characteristic laugh. Cammy slipped her hands inside her thighs and used her forefingers to gently spread the lips of her sex. It opened only slightly though, showing the long peak of her clitoral hood and the bright pink of the gash between. "Wider," I said and she pressed her fingers a little firmer, down and out, pulling things open further until I could see the tip of her urethra and her vaginal tunnel began to open slightly. "Welcome aboard?" she said questioningly. "You'd like something in there would you?" "I'd like to try. Find out how it feels with the real thing instead of just the tip of a finger or that plastic thing I've used twice now." "Well, you'll have to settle for a finger for the moment. use the fingers of one hand to excite your clitoris and put your other index finger as far inside as you can. Use that finger to fuck yourself, move it about inside as you do until you find the angle it feels best." Her lip came out in a pout but she did as I instructed. When she tore her underwear as she had, my feelings of caution had returned. Torn clothing could be construed as a sign of forced sex, and whether true or not, considering the fact that my methods could and probably would be see as blackmail and office place sexual harassment, I was not going to chance any deposit within or on her today. I'd have to settle for a masturbation session tonight. I still wanted to see her get herself off tonight though. With the fingers of one hand twirling in tight circles at the top of her pussy and the other's index finger jabbing at herself, her breathing was beginning to get a little deeper and a slight flush was creeping into the skin of her upper chest. "Add a second finger to your pussy and try to move your hand a little quicker." She stared at me as if not comprehending, then complied, her middle finger joining the index with hardly a pause in her hand movement. Her eyes got wider, her mouth opened more her breathing deepened still more. She moved her left hand from her clitoris to a breast. She massaged her nipple more gently this time, pressing the hardened nubbin against her finger with her thumb. Rubbing the tip of a nail across the trapped point. Her thumb was moving in a roughly circular motion, beginning at the bottom of the nipple, pushing it into the side of her finger and allowing her thumb to slide up it, pushing it up and out before twirling the thumb back down and around to the base and repeating the motion. She hadn't forgotten her clitoris though, but had slightly cupped her fucking hand and with each thrust into herself she was slapping her palm against the top of her vaginal slot sharply. "Add a third finger." Her eyes bulged, her head began moving from side to side in little jerks as if trying to deny my request, but within a few strokes the ring finger had joined the other two, spreading her opening wide, wider than I thought it had ever been if what she'd said earlier was true. Her head was thrown back now, eyes closed, mouth tightly shut as the breath whooshed in and out of her nose in ragged surges. I watched the flaring and contracting at the tip of her nose for a moment, then became aware of the flush spreading into her cheeks. Scanning downwards, her upper chest was flushed a bright red now and the hand manipulating her breast was no longer touching the nipple itself, but was massaging the breast as a whole. fingers sliding across the sensitive, darkened areola without coming into contact with the rigid nubbin. The very tip of the nipple itself had gone white in it's rigidity and excitement. Between her legs, those thick protruding outer lips had flushed with color in the past few minutes and the vaginal opening itself was no longer shrinking back with each quick stroke of her fingers, but seemed to hold its stretch as if awaiting the expected next invasion. Her hand was moving furiously now, quick hard strokes, each one a slap against the now distended hood shrouding her clitoris. Each plunge into herself seemed to not only be stretch the hole side to side, but with the addition of the slap to her clitoris, the invading fingers were pulling upwards as well. It had been forced open to the point it was truly a tunnel now. Moving my head slightly I was able to see those inches within where the walls of her vagina rejoined and seemed to be a coiling, shifting writhing creature trying to hibernate within it's cave, yet having to constantly shift it's position for it's changing circumstances. A groan sounded in her throat suddenly, and it sounded loudly, even considering the music coming from the speakers high behind me. Her head snapped to the left, her body twitched and her right foot fell to the floor of the tub. Her left hand gripped and squeezed her breast - hard. The fingers of her right hand slammed savagely into her pussy again and again until suddenly the hand froze there. Her fingers seeming to curl in towards her palm, making themselves into a fist inside herself. Even the little finger, straight until now, curled under and made itself a home within, joining it's brethren. Her back arched, her breathing stopped, everything about her seemed to be on hold, frozen and she remained so for what seemed the longest time. Then her right foot, in the bottom of the tub twitched, once, twice and a third time and she slumped where she sat, back slouching against the seat back behind her, left foot also slipping to the floor of the tub. Her left hand remained where it was, but was now completely relaxed. The right hand and it's fingers relaxed, the hand shifting a bit, the fingers slowly being pushed out as her pussy seemed to pulse back into it's closed condition with each new breath she took. It had been quite a show. I stood where I was for the few short seconds it took for her to begin coming around. When she did, the first thing she did was to lightly rub at and cup the lips of her pussy. Smiling sheepishly up at me she said, "A little tender." "Your three fingers combined are smaller in every way than my cock when it is hard." Her eyes widened again as that soaked in. "I'm not going to do anything with you tonight. I don't think you are ready for it. Get yourself dressed, clean up this tub and go home." She honestly seemed disappointed, but I was still not ready to trust the situation - not yet. "Come to my office when you come in Thursday and we'll talk. Right now, I have more work to do before I can leave." "Do I get my raise?" "Like I said, we'll talk Thursday, not now. Go home, enjoy your day off. I'll see you Thursday." "But, but . . . " I had my back to her and was walking away. One of the objectives of this celebration is to remind those who can to make a donation to ASSTR. Remember ASSTR relies on your donations to keep doing it's great work. So if you, dear readers, can then please make a donation. You can find details on how to donate at: http://www.asstr-mirror.org/donations.html . -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+