Monday, October 20, 2014

Wherehouse Annie


“What was the name of your home town?” I gasped trying to divert and delay.
Annie was looking at me with her startling blue eyes which peered out from under her ratted blacker than black hair. Cut short with a single curl for a side burn on either side of her rouged cheeks, she seemed to me to be the last of the mods from Great Britain. No doubt she once screamed for John, Paul, George, and Ringo in her day. Now it was the late nineteen seventies and she smiled at me and said, "I'm from Kaddiff," in that accent that always made my nineteen year old cock stiffer than it usually was. She was the poshest women I had ever met. Or at least that is how I felt as she was giving me a handjob in the warehouse office where we both worked. The way her tits had the ski slope swoop from the braless seventies fashion and came to a point of reserved British ecstasy while pulling apart the unbuttoned flimsy fabric of the polo shirt had me smitten and bitten. The view was bringing me off fast. Just like the kitten liked it when working my dick with her mittens. I would last a little longer when she mounted me after business hours. These were the best work breaks ever.
But if Donna, the other “woman of a certain age” I was intimate with at my fun house warehouse job found out all hell would break loose. With that I broke loose and with perfect as ever timing Annie’s mouth covered my cocks top and slurped up every last drop. Only strands of my cum saw the light of day as she threw her head back and swallowed my load with her incredible sense of bravado.
“Well done my boy.” Annie said as she took out her compact to inspect her lipstick and face for any telltale signs of my seed.
I opened the office door and nearly walked right over Tami. Tami was at best five feet tall. She was my age, had long brown hair which fell past her shoulders in a frizzy perm that nature had given her. She was lucky it was the seventies because that was the style. Other decades might be more problematic, but for me her hazel eyes, extreme tan, and tiny butt captured what desire was left within me after Annie's vigorous stroking. That was of course when I was not negotiating a pot and fucking deal with Donna, or finding stories to tell Rene, my long term amour, about why I had to cancel a date. Donna she would understand about because one thing Rene liked almost as much as me was pot. Maybe more than me. But good dope at a cut rate was something Rene would accept. Even if I came home smelling of middle aged pussy to get it. Rene was a pragmatist.

Tami was not. When she went into Annie's office after me I wondered if she would get some Kaddiff  as well. Annie used her management role as well if not better than any man did in those days of disco. This was the land before sexual harassment was  recognized as a crime. So we were all fucking like bunnies in the workplace. As I recall it was mostly consensual.. Not being in a role of power I was not a predator and if Annie was a predator, I was willing and eager prey. That woman fucked me blue while II worked there and I am forever grateful.

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