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Showing posts from November, 2014

Wherehouse Tamara

Tamara She was barely over five feet tall. A big head of long curly shoulder length hair. She would, as we all could, wear blue jeans to work, My favorite pair had stars on each bun of her tiny behind. They wiggled and winked and twinkled at me every morning as she passed through the warehouse from parking lot to front office. That’s  where she worked. I would make sure I was positioned where I could watch her well formed tiny tits bounce in their often braless state beneath sheer fabric in the summer. I enjoyed the round enhanced garment heftiness in her winter attire as well. But the real treat was her tiny round  be-starred behind. The way her long dark curly hair bounced in rhythm around her shoulders in her jaunty trek through the warehouse made mornings better than the somewhat nasty morning brew that came out of the coffee machine. But spending the rest of the day flinging boxes and filling out shipping forms was filled with visions of me ravishing that dol

Wherehouse Tasha

Tasha Another Friday slinging boxes at the warehouse. We had a lot of orders to pick and get out before UPS showed up at the end of the day. Usually nothing provoked more anxiety in Ricky and I than to see one of the sales staff in the warehouse late Friday. Often that meant they had just made a sale and would demand getting a new order out quickly to impress their new sales prey. No sales person in the place struck me as more predatory than Tasha. She was a sleek five foot six, slender torsoed blond with a luscious rounded bottom. Whether in jeans or a flowing dress her bottom was tops. She had short curly blond bobbed hair that could only be described as fluffy. Often it fluttered about her face obscuring her right eye while her other eye would slyly size you up. To me she was the personification of the idiom of the times. Foxy.   This Friday afternoon she was particularly so. She approached me slowly, almost panther like, not dressed for business success but in Friday nig