copyright: Lesley Tara, 2012
Her interest in me had been apparent – quite frankly, almost blatant – at our initial meeting, and Ms Brewster had smiled with the feline satisfaction of a cat who sees the bowl of cream about to be poured when I had suggested that the next stage of negotiations might best be conducted as a ‘confidential one-to-one meeting’ between her and myself, ‘quite privately’ and at a time of her convenience – if she preferred, as I was sure she was very busy, after the end of the normal working day, as I was ‘quite prepared to do whatever it takes ... to arrive at terms of our mutual satisfaction’. Oh yeah, when called for, I can do blatant too.
I didn’t quite go so far as fluttering my eyelashes at her – at least, I don’t think I did – but on the final phrase about ‘our mutual satisfaction’, I did a little movement which looks like sitting up straighter in my chair, but which has the effect of thrusting my large breasts out even more prominently, so that they are straining against the thin fabric of my plain white pintuck shirt. As I know very well, this has quite an eye-popping effect, not least because it looks like it also might have a button-popping effect and that my frontage might burst into full view at any second.
I know that my breasts are my biggest asset in every sense of the word, although an equally well-shaped thrusting ass and a ruthless mind are rivals for second place behind them, a little ahead of my naturally straw-blonde hair, which I keep to a neat length that just brushes my collar. However, there is no doubt that my tits are (please excuse the pun) well out in front, englobed and supported in my 32-inch F-cup bras. I have no compunction at all about using my physical assets in any way necessary with any businesswoman who shows a hint of sexual attraction – but I’m not a whore, for I do it for my own pleasure, to slake my own voracious sapphic appetite, as much as for the networking and the deals that it facilitates. And I don’t do men – never have and never will, ever since my breasts suddenly bulged out at the age of fourteen, and my girl scouts leader found that she just couldn’t keep her hands off them and me, deftly seducing me and then four months’ later taking my cherry with a strap-on on my fifteenth birthday – which was the best birthday present that I have ever had.
Ms Brewster is a case in point – she is the charismatic and highly-successful CEO of her own business, which is an important buyer from the company in which I am a young but fast-rising executive. She is also – I’m sorry to be crude, but there really is no better way to describe her – a fucking hot bitch. She is forty-three years old, and does not try to hide that in any false, mutton-dressed-as-lamb kind of way. On the contrary, she exudes experience, confidence and authority, with the incipient crows feet at the corners of her eyes, the hint of fleshiness in her jowls, the slight thickening at her waist and the firm heaviness of her thighs only adding to her majestic presence. Ms Brewster certainly keeps herself fit and always dresses stylishly, having a figure still trim enough to look good in a tightly-cut business suit. Her breasts, though naturally having rather more sag than my twenty-five year old ones, are still shapely enough to give her some striking feminine curves – in fact, I think her jutting ass is really a hot number. It was shown off to definite advantage, together with her smoothly-tanned and well-muscled legs, in the short and tight mini-skirt of her navy blue pinstripe two-piece suit.
I am strongly attracted to older good-looking women who are in positions of power and authority, partly from the scout leader who started me off and then passed me round her circle of lesbian teachers, lawyers and businesswomen, but mostly because these capable mature bitches have the experience to give you an amazing fuck. I admire them and get intensely turned on by them, because I want and intend to be like them: hungry tigers in the business jungle, movers and shakers, and the ruthless predators of any pretty pussy that takes their fancy. So I left that preliminary meeting with Ms Brewster with a hot flushed feeling making the gusset of my panties almost sodden, and with the confidence that I had had a similar effect on her. We had been alone on that occasion, of course, otherwise my phrasing could not have trailed my cunt so obviously in front of her, but it was the middle of a busy business afternoon and she had a full schedule of other appointments to follow, so there was no opportunity to take things further. I left the standard contract for her to look over – it was essentially a renewal on similar terms as before, and once again only making a definite commitment for twelve months.
Ms Brewster agreed that ‘an open-ended meeting might be best’ (and I had no doubts about which of my ends she was intending to open), and arranged for me to return at 6.00 p.m. the next day – when, she said, ‘there will be no one else in the office, so we can explore the arrangements without interruption’, both of us knowing quite well that what would be explored was every jutting curve and deep crevice of each other’s lustful lesbian bodies. She rose and escorted me to the door of her large and luxuriously-appointed office, ostensibly from politeness but actually because it gave her the chance for a good firm and confirming squeeze of my butt as she ushered me into the outer room.
Here sat her PA, an efficient and attractive busty brunette in her late 20s, together with a very pretty little Asian babe with long glossy black hair who looked to be no more than sixteen due to her slender body and small A-cup breasts, but who was probably about twenty-one – Ms Brewster introduced her as a college student who was interning, and looked directly at me with a gleam in her eyes when she added: ‘and I’m showing her the ropes’, a double-meaning that was not lost on me at all, especially when the young woman in question looked demurely down at her desk, blushing and biting gently on her lower lip. I couldn’t agree more – those little Japanese sluts look their best when roped up in tight bondage, after you have torn most of their clothes from their bodies. The set-up gave me an extra hot flush of desire, so much so that I almost had to clamp my legs together to avoid moisture visibly dripping from my drenched panties down my thighs, for it was clear that an unwritten clause in the job descriptions of Ms Brewster’s aides was that they satisfied her sapphic lusts whenever she wished. Whilst I was sure that her PA and the intern were smart and capable in their jobs, I had no doubt that they had been particularly recruited for their sexy bodies and their lesbian orientation – for I had felt from both of them that unmistakeable current of sexual interest, as they had checked out my figure without trying to make it obvious (well, not too obvious!).
When I returned the next day, just before six o’clock, the cute piece of Asian jailbait already had her overcoat on and was standing by the door of the outer office, as the raven-haired PA closed down her computer and reached for her own jacket. The brunette smiled warmly at me, and I was glad that there was no hint of jealousy in her manner, for we both knew that I was going into her boss’s office to drop my panties and spread my legs wide open. Instead, she hooked an arm through the Japanese girl’s, gave the blushing young babe a possessive squeeze, and informed me that Ms Brewster had assigned them ‘some special research to do together’ and that she ‘hoped to see more of me on another occasion’. As the PA’s eyes were deliberately focused on my breasts when she said this, her message was quite clear, and so I replied that I would be delighted ‘to get to know you closely’, of course with Ms Brewster’s permission ... and, I added questioningly, perhaps participation?
‘Oh, yes’, murmured the PA, her eyes still on my capacious mammaries, ‘I’m sure she’ll want that ... mmm, and those!’ With a merry wink, she led away the cute Asian girl, and I had no doubt that before long the demure intern would be stripped, quite possibly bound, and then well-fucked by a strap-on thrusting remorselessly into her pussy – or perhaps her asshole.
I knocked on the door to the inner office, and the rich voice of the company CEO bade me enter, her tone already coloured with desire. Ms Brewster greeted me with a smile and a handshake, and ushered me to the seat in front of her desk, before resuming her own place behind it. It was an impressively long L-shape in a dark wood, with a computer, telephone and some other accessories placed neatly out of the way on the short arm of the L to her right, whilst the large rectangular main section which lay between us was completely empty apart from the contract that I had left on the previous day. Her manner was warm and welcoming, but also briskly businesslike, as if to get the necessary formalities out of the way as quickly as possible.
‘Well, this all seems quite satisfactory’, she said, lifting her pen in preparation for signing, ‘and I have been pleased with your company’s products and services.’
I smiled quickly in acknowledgement of the compliment, but made a hand motion indicating that she should pause. I then leaned down (the posture making my tits swing nicely forwards, and presenting Ms Brewster with a clear view down my cleavage), opened my small case, and withdrew another draft contract.
‘If you take a look at this alternative’, I interjected, ‘I think you’ll find I can improve upon our current service.’
Ms Brewster raised her eyebrows interrogatively, and then, with a hint of a smile playing around her lips, she took the proffered paperwork and began to scan through it.
‘If I can save us both some time’, I added, ‘the only differences are in paragraph 6 and the addition of a new paragraph at the end.’
She glanced at these; the first of them set the contract for four years rather than one, but fixed the price per unit at the current level, providing only for an increase each year in line with the official rate of inflation. This was actually a good deal for both our companies, and one which my bosses would be delighted if I could secure – but I knew that Ms Brewster was cautious in such matters, and did not make contracts for more than a year ahead, even on reasonable terms. However, the sweetener to tempt her was the new clause at the end, and, whilst a small frown had crossed her face as she read paragraph 6, this changed to an amused smile as she perused the addenda. This was a phrasing of my own, which stated that for monitoring purposes during the term of the contract, she would be entitled to a liaison meeting once a month, at a place and time of her choice (including outside normal office hours), and with any member of my company’s staff that she wished to specify.
Having read this through twice, Ms Brewster placed the revised contract on top of the previous version, and regarded me directly, with a hint of admiration as well as a gleam of desire in her eyes.
‘An unusual proposition’, she purred, ‘but not without ... interesting possibilities.’
I nodded my head, my cheeks dimpling with a demure smile that deceived neither of us as to my intentions, as I replied:
‘Of course, I would hope that you would request me personally to provide ... close ... liaison, as I should be very happy to do ... just as you please.’
Ms Brewster leaned back in her leather executive chair, and gave a rich throaty chuckle that sent a vibrato shiver running down my back. She looked so commandingly confident, so handsome in her mature magnificence, that I felt my pussy getting looser and wetter and warmer. ‘Fuckit’, I thought to myself, ‘this bitch is so fucking hot, it’s not true.’
The successful company CEO looked at me appraisingly across the broad and clear expanse of her desk, making no attempt to conceal her frank inventory of my physical appeal, as her gaze lingered on the rich swell of my bust.
‘Well’, she said, in a slightly teasing tone, ‘I can see that your qualifications are ... very well-exhibited ... but do you have the experience to provide such specialised ... and perhaps demanding ... services as I may require?’
I had unobtrusively undone the two buttons of my jacket, so that when I now shifted a little forwards in my chair to reply, it fell away to each side, giving a full view of my globular breasts. The outline of my quite skimpy half-cup black bra was very visible through the thin white cotton of my shirt, against which my posture was quite deliberately thrusting my bulging prominences.
‘Oh, yes!’ I reassured her, letting my eagerness show; ‘I have learned so much ... under ... many capable women, for over twelve years now.’
Ms Brewster’s eyebrows rose again in definite surprise: my age was quite obviously no more than mid-20s, and so my comment indicated that I had been an active lesbian since my early teens. Her tongue flicked over her lips, moistening them like a gourmet diner anticipating a delicious new dish being offered for their discerning palate. Letting actions speak louder than words, she made no reply but rose smoothly to her feet, smoothing down the quite short and tight mini-skirt of her dark blue pinstriped business suit. The handsome mature company boss strolled around behind where I was seated, and ended by the large window on my left which gave a view over the parking lot in front of the building and the constant flow of traffic on the busy main road beyond. Leaning casually against the wall next to the window, she turned to face me across about ten feet of carpet.
‘Hmm, well ... I’ll need to make sure of that before I sign anything’, she mused; ‘clearly you are very imaginative, and good on paper ... but what about in action? ... in what I might call, the heat of the moment? Are you good at oral ... communication ... for example?’
Her innuendo was obvious, and neither of us was going to win any marks for subtlety here – but that was part of the pleasure, as our coquettish verbal fencing heightened the anticipatory sexual tension in the room. There was a faint background aroma of female arousal, which only our experienced cunt-eating senses would have detected.
I smiled enigmatically, stood up and almost stalked across the intervening distance, as she watched my every move like a hawk. I had dressed in anticipation of such a moment, in a black skirt-and-jacket suit of a severely plain cut; the pencil skirt was five or six inches longer than Ms Brewster’s sexually assertive mini-skirt, but it tightly encased my jutting ass and sharply tapered to just above my knees, emphasising my hour-glass figure. Below its hem, just a few inches of my knees and legs were visible, above the tops of my glossy black leather boots. Beneath the suit jacket, I had opted for the plainest elegance of a white fly-front shirt, leaving the top three buttons undone so that the start of my cleavage was exhibited. Although not yet on view, my lingerie was equally carefully chosen: a pair of black traditional-style stockings, each of which was held in place by two straps and clips hanging from the lace-edged black suspender belt clipped around my narrow waist, and a small pair of black gauze-fronted Y-shaped thong panties in a matching set with my bra.
I approached Ms Brewster without any undue haste, savouring this special moment – the one before the first physical contact, but when you both know without any doubt that sex is the next item on the agenda. Stopping at her left side, so close that my right hip was only a couple of inches from her, I lifted my right hand, extended my index finger, and traced a semi-circle on the fabric of her suit jacket, underneath the jutting prominence of her left breast, whilst I softly murmured:
‘I think I can raise ... some points of interest to us both ...’
I then drew my finger back across her jacket, curving over the swell of her breast and pressing through the fabric onto the unmistakeable hardness of her nipple. A sultry smile spread slowly across her face, and her lips parted as she gazed at me through half-lidded eyes, like a sleek jungle cat – as she was, of course, a tigress in the business world. Ms Brewster’s position shifted slightly to a stance in which her legs were a bit further apart, as I retraced my finger once more around and across her bust. I knew that she was ripe and ready, that the moment which I had fantasised about the previous night as I lay in my hotel room, with my vibrator jammed all the way into my gash as I jerked on my tits and my back arched in shuddering orgasm, had at last arrived. I moved closer to the mature CEO, and almost breathed into her left ear:
‘... and I can devote my full attention to any ... sensitive areas.’
whilst simultaneously I thrust my left hand in between her parted thighs, and like lightning pushed upwards to seize and squeeze the soft flesh of her cunt through her lacy lingerie, in the process hoisting the hem of her mini-skirt up to her hips. I forcefully rubbed my index finger up and down the crotch of her panties, which were already almost soaked with her seeping juices, pressing the thin gusset into the deep furrow between her puffily-aroused labia.
Ms Brewster’s nostrils flared, and she gazed boldly and directly into my eyes, as I firmly caressed the bulge of her prominent pudenda. With a twist of my wrist, I curled my finger past the flimsy fabric of her panties and slid it into her hole, penetrating her warm moist flesh right up to my knuckle as easily as a hot knife slicing through butter. As it sank into her, the company boss gave an aroused gasp that was music to my ears. She kept her gaze locked upon mine as she arched her legs apart to give me greater access to her private parts, and she positively purred in reply:
‘Aaahh! Mmmm, yes ... there are always ... mmmm, sensitive areas ... that need, aaahhh! ... attention from ... an expert!’
‘It would be my privilege ... and my pleasure’, I assured the sexy and powerful CEO, with such evident sincerity that she smiled broadly at me. Then she unbuttoned her suit jacket, leaned back further against the wall to brace herself, and spread her hips wide apart. The mini-skirt rode right up to her waist, revealing delicate triangular black panties which were fastened on each hip with loose red ties. Below these, she was wearing black hold-ups and – like myself – a pair of smart black boots, though hers had more of a dominant chic to their styling, with stiletto high heels and sharply pointed toes.
To my eyes, the forty-three year old woman looked absolutely stunning. Her slightly thicker thighs, the mature meaty folds of her pussy and the outthrust swell of her pelvis above them, all emphasised that here was a well-kept woman in the prime of life – and her physical attraction was further enhanced by the aura of her competence, assurance and power in the business world. My unfeigned admiration must have been apparent, and it both pleased and excited the experienced older lesbian. Ms Brewster placed one hand on my shoulder, and her gentle downwards push was enough of a signal to a sapphic slut like me. At once, I eased my finger out of her vagina and dropped to my knees in front of her masterful body. I gazed reverently at the dark strain on the crotch of her panties, which were now only a couple of inches from my face. I breathed inwards, savouring the musky aroma of her sweat, her arousal and her seeping pussy-juices.
‘So, you hot little bitch – show me your oral skills!’ she demanded in a husky voice that was vibrant with anticipation and desire.
I made my obeisance first, like the good Catholic girl that I once was, but now pussy is my altar and I seek communion at every opportunity, and not just on Sundays! I leaned forwards and placed a delicate kiss of homage in the very centre of the wet patch of Ms Brewster’s panties, and felt a shiver run through her heavier frame at the soft touch of my lips.
Then, with more pleasure than any child opening a birthday present, I took the ribbon ties on her hips in each hand, and slowly and simultaneously I pulled them undone. Ms Brewster softly exhaled in satisfaction as the gauzy fabric covering her cunt peeled slowly downwards, and then fell away from between her legs to crumple on the carpet, leaving nothing now to come between us.
I bent forwards again, and as my lips touched her immaculately clean-shaven pussy for the first time, I breathed in her rich female musk – and had a pleasant surprise, for she had clearly sprayed her cunt with perfume not long before my arrival, and not just any perfume but Chanel No. 5 at that! If it was possible, my respect for Ms Brewster rose even higher, due not only to the consideration and attention to detail which her preparation revealed, but also to her absolute confidence that it would be needed.
Thrilled and delighted, I used my fingers to ease apart her already engorged and projecting labia, revealing the wide and deep vaginal chasm between them. I slipped my tongue into this, but at first delicately and teasingly, coaxing it around and giving little flicking touches with its tip, especially up towards the inverted V of her clitoral hood. Ms Brewster gave a soft grunt, and then another when I began to lick with firmer strokes, alternating between sliding my tongue vertically up and down her slit, and jetting it forwards with short jabbing thrusts into her vaginal hole. Finally, I began to nibble gently at her inner labia with my teeth – an effort which was rewarded by hearing her breathing become shallower and faster – and also to suck outwards on her hole, as well as spearing into it. Quite suddenly, Ms Brewster gripped the back of my head, and ground her cunt against my eager face, and I lapped at her pussy with redoubled vigour. Within a few seconds, the sexy businesswoman gave a harsh croak and then a deep grunt, whilst her hips jerked and sticky fluid gushed over my tongue and lips – I had brought her to climax, for the first and certainly not for the last time.
For about thirty seconds after her orgasm she held a rigid pose, and when she released my head I almost lost my balance and fell over backwards. Ms Brewster reached down and took my chin between her thumb and index finger, and said softly:
‘Well, that’s a good start ... yes, definitely a most promising start.’
I was very gratified by this, because after all her lesbian experience was much greater than mine. In fact, she was so sexually hot and voracious that I was sure she femme-fucked at least once every day, and so – even allowing for time-of-the-month and estimating on the conservative side, that meant at least three hundred times a year ... and if that had been the case for, say, at least the last twenty years ... well, that made six thousand sapphic sex sessions! And probably with hundreds of different girls and women! Wow – I sure was in capable hands here!!
As I remained kneeling on the floor, Ms Brewster walked back to behind her desk, removed her suit jacket, and placed it carefully over the back of her leather executive chair. Then she undid the waistband button and short zip of her mini-skirt, and placed this on the seat of the chair. Finally, she turned her profile towards me as she slipped over her head the white silk jersey camisole top which she had been wearing under the suit. I drank all this in, whilst savouring her calm composure. The company CEO was now wearing only her bra, suspender belt, stockings and black boots – in which combination her handsome mature frame looked unequivocally ready for fucking and being fucked.
Having removed her unnecessary garments, Ms Brewster beckoned me to rise and approach her – until, with another gesture, she stopped me when I was still about six or seven feet away, just in front of the middle of her desk.
‘Take off your suit ... and let’s get down to some closer negotiations’, she said with a hungry smile.
I copied her actions of a moment before, neatly placing my jacket over the visitor’s chair in which I had sat on the previous day, and then undoing and slipping off my tight skirt, which I also folded and placed on the chair.
‘Good ... yes, that’s good ...’ Ms Brewster murmured.
She instructed me to remain where I was, and walked round from behind her desk to stand in front of me. After gazing appreciatively at my out-thrust bust for a few seconds, the company boss reached for the front of my white shirt. Ms Brewster took her time in undoing this, savouring the steadily increasing exposure of my ripe breasts as she slowly worked her way down through the buttons, until my shirt hung completely open at both sides. I gave a lightly rolling shrug of my shoulders, and it slipped from my body and fell softly to the floor.
Next, the mature executive put her hands on my shoulders and moved me backwards for a short distance, until I felt the edge of her desk press into the softer flesh of the back of my legs, just below the curve of my ass-cheeks. As soon as I was placed where she wanted, Ms Brewster lost no time at all in taking hold of the cups of my black bra, one in each hand, and giving them a firm pressure which uplifted my large breasts even higher, and emphasised the deep valley of my cleavage. Seeing that my bra was held together by a clip at the front, between its two quite skimpy black half-cups, rather than at the backband, Ms Brewster smiled and swiftly undid this.
The lace-topped cups sprang apart is if spring-loaded – which in a way they were, from the pressure of the fullness of my large endowment – and my mounds of mammaries literally swung into view. I say it without false modesty – my breasts are quite superb: made up of flawless healthy and smooth pale pink flesh, beautifully-proportioned in a slightly ovoid shape that thrusts their large extent firmly forwards, and capped by perfectly-rounded aureoles and very erect nipples. I have learned by now to expect and to savour the effect which they have on other lesbians when they are first unmasked, touched or licked, and I was glad to see that – highly experienced dyke as she undoubtedly was – Ms Brewster was no exception to the rule.
‘Aaah!’ she breathed, with unmistakeable appreciation; ‘oh, how nice ... how very, mmmm, tasty ... yes ... very nice indeed!’
She pushed the loosened straps of my bra off my shoulders, and it dropped behind me to land on the top of her desk, from where she almost impatiently swept it out of the way onto the floor. I relished her warm firm grasp, as she took both of my tits and pulled on them, and then mashed my breasts together, rubbing one against the other. However, Ms Brewster was a decisive woman who was not inclined to waste time, and almost immediately she cupped my right breast in her left hand, raising it up as her head bent down, and then her hungry mouth was clamped around my nipple – sucking it, nibbling it, and letting her tongue rasp across the tip of my tit.
My head went back and I gave a deep sigh of pleasure as this powerful mature woman devoured my breast, sending a rippling shiver of arousal and anticipation coursing through me. I put one hand on Ms Brewster’s shoulder, almost to steady myself, whilst my other hand just naturally slipped down her back to cradle and massage the warm flesh of her full firm ass. Just as I did this, Ms Brewster thrust her free hand down inside my panties and grasped my cunt, cupping my mound in her palm and then starting to grind the heel of her hand against the top of my slit, pressing on my clitoris. I gave another gasp, and, as if it was an invitation – which, I suppose, it was – the company boss twisted her hand sideways and then pushed a long index finger into my vagina, penetrating me for several inches. She began to slide this in and out, whilst her thumb probed under my clitoral hood until she found my engorged nub, and then rubbed hard against it. Throughout, she had continued to suck and lick my nipple – although she had now transferred her attentions to my other breast.
I was squirming and moaning as I began to feel the rising of a powerful climax, when to my frustration Ms Brewster stopped both her oral attentions to my breasts and her finger-fucking of my slit. I gulped, trying to recover some self-control, as the mature woman lifted her pussy-poking digit to her mouth and licked my juices from it, whilst giving me a look so sultry that it would have peeled paint.
‘You are nice and wet, for sure ... so, do I turn you on, you big-titted lezzie slut, hmmm ... ?’ she asked, almost absent-mindedly pinching one of my nipples with her free hand.
I had no trouble being as honest as a saint, even if I was lust-filled sinner.
‘Aaaaaahh!’ I gasped, ‘you’re the hottest fucking bitch on the planet! Do me, c’mon, take me, fucking have me ... anything you like, I’ll do just anything you want, anything at all!’
Ms Brewster licked her lips in predatory delight, as she ran both of her hands over and around my quivering F-cup breasts.
‘Well, Miss bumper-tits’, she replied, ‘I think you’ve got yourself a deal ... yes, I think you have.’
As she said this, she placed her hands at my waist and turned me around 180 degrees, so that I was now facing across her desk with my back towards her. Of course, it was obvious what she wanted, and I hardly needed the signal of her light pressure on my shoulder-blades. I bent forwards from the waist and laid my front down on the dark wood of the desk, with my large breasts pooling beneath my chest like some inflatable pillow. With my head now lying on the desk, resting on my left cheek, my ass was jauntily jutting out over the edge, which pressed into my thighs – not painfully, but noticeably.
The company boss took a moment to caress my pert buttocks and to stroke the edge of her hand between my thighs, pressing up into the gusset of my panties and making me shiver with anticipation. She then hooked her fingers into the waistband of my panties, drawing them down my legs and casting them aside, after which her firm pressure on my ankles adjusted my stance until my feet were nearly a yard apart, leaving my cunt fully exposed for easy fucking. Now we were almost equally nude, in our erotic attire of leather boots, black stockings and suspender belts – the only difference was that my bra had gone, whilst hers was still in place, with its underwiring giving her large breasts (I found later that she took a 34D cup) an eye-catching projection.
Ms Brewster gave me a nod of approval and a smile, and I remained in my position of available submission as she walked across to a filing cabinet that was out of my view, and then returned with ... ah! yes!! good, good, good! ... the harness of a large plastic strap-on dildo in her hands. Once back in my view, she exhibited the phallic object to me, and I licked my lips in appreciation of its bulky diameter and long, ribbed, length. There was a electric sense of tension and anticipation in the atmosphere as, with well-practiced ease, Ms Brewster stepped into the harness, pulled the strap-on up to her waist, and fixed it firmly in place. Then she disappeared from my view again, but I knew that she had walked round and was now standing directly behind my widespread ass – a fact confirmed when I felt her fingers tease my outer and inner labia apart, and I shuddered with excitement and desire.
At last, I felt the hard bulbous knob of the plastic pillar of passion pressing against my opening, and then slowly pushing its way into me. The ponderous pacing which Ms Brewster used was incredibly effective in two ways. The first was psychological: it confirmed, in a way that thrilled me to the core, who was in charge here, who would set the agenda and manage the outcome, and I was glad to give myself up utterly to this confident and sensual experienced dyke. The second was more obviously physical: her slow insertion was even more arousing in its stimulus that a rapid plunging in and out would have been.
As the last few inches sank home, stretching me more than I had expected and filling me up to a wonderful extent, I began to give a soft whimper, just waiting for the amazing sensations that would follow as she withdrew the dildo and then re-inserted it, whether quickly or slowly. However, she did neither – with the massive dildo buried in my cunt right up to its hilt, so deeply that its faceplate and her thighs were jammed against my butt, she calmly reached across to the side of her desk, picked up the pages of the revised contract that I had brought with me, and slapped them down on the austerely bare desktop, just inches from my nose. Nailed in place as I was by both the dildo and her weight, which together were pressing my stomach down onto the desk top and trapping my legs against its edge, I could only wheeze and splutter – but all was made immediately clear.
‘Now’, said Ms Brewster calmly, as cool as if we were holding a public seminar rather than being in the throes of lustful lesbian lovemaking; ‘yes, I quite like your amended contract ... even if it is for longer than I would usually make, but it’s a fair unit price ... and, yes, I certainly like your additional clause ... but ... it needs amendment, mmm, yes, it definitely does ...’
A flicker of apprehension ran through me, but any anxiety was swiftly dissipated by her next words:
‘I think we will need these liaison ... sessions ... more often than this ... mmm, yes, I think twice a month, not once ... don’t you agree, babe, hmmm?’
As she asked this, she gave a small but wickedly effective rocking motion with her hips, which when transmitted through the length of the eight-inch shaft that was thrust inside me, took me to such heights of stimulation that I almost fainted. I manage to pant a reply:
‘Ooohh! ... I ... aaagghh, fuckit, oh! Fuck me! I mean, yes, yes – of course, please, yes, mmm ... aaahhh, do me! please-ah-ah-ah-agghhh!’
She capably held me just tantalisingly on the cusp of orgasm, as she picked up a pen, turned to the final paragraph of the contract, crossed out the word ‘once’, wrote in ‘twice’ above it – and then, YES!!! – this alone nearly made me come – yes, with a laugh and a flourish, Ms Brewster signed my amended contract!
‘Ooooh, thank you, thank you!’ I moaned, ‘oooh, please – take me, please, please! – oh, dear God, I need it so bad, fuck me, fuck hard, please – make me come for you, make me come for you now, right here!’
‘Oh, I will’, purred Ms Brewster decisively, possession and desire richly colouring her tones, ‘you’re mine now – mine to play with, mine to fuck – yes?’
As she said this last part, she slowly withdrew the dildo from my pussy, until only its very tip remained inside me, tantalisingly holding my vagina open. My need was so great, that I almost shouted my agreement in reply:
‘Yes, oh, yes! YES!! YES – TAKE ME, OH – PLEASE, PLEASE FUCK ME, I’M YOURS, ALL YOURS, YES!!!’
I felt Ms Brewster grasp my shoulders with both hands to give her leverage and pin me in place, and then her heavy pelvis slammed forwards and rammed the dildo back into me. It was almost like a punch in the gut, but with an explosive sexual power added to it. The air whooshed out of me, and I had only a second to draw in a shuddering breath as she yanked the rod back out, and then drilled into me again, even more firmly. Ms Brewster rode me like a mustang at a rodeo, and I loved every pulverising, mind-blowing second of it. So, it turned out did she, for within less than twenty battering-ram invasions of my pussy, I screamed and sobbed in a convulsing climax – and from the sensation of power and the sensuous impact of flesh upon flesh, a split second later Ms Brewster also came as well, emitting a series of harsh short grunts.
After a moment of heavy-breathing stillness, the company CEO withdraw her plastic cock from my cunt, and gave a slap on my rump as a wordless indicator to resume an upright position. I must admit – and I’m far from being a novice at taking a hard strap-on fucking – that it was a struggle to gather the strength and co-ordination to raise my chest from the desktop and push myself upwards into a vertical posture.
By the time that I had done so, Ms Brewster had unbuckled and removed the strap-on, placing it on the end of her desk. She gathered me into her arms, for a slow sensuous session of oral exploration of each others mouths with our tongues, whilst our hands roamed over the other’s torso, giving especially tender attention to the breasts. This was amazingly invigorating, and I felt my youthful energy coursing back – but I was more than impressed at the older woman’s equal resilience.
After a few moments, Ms Brewster broke our clinch and crossed to a mini-bar set into one of the wall units, from which she withdrew a bottle of chilled still spring water. She poured two large glasses, handing one of them to me, and we stood there, our mouth drinking the refreshing water whilst our eyes were drinking in each other’s wonderfully curvy feminine form.
Thinking that this sexual bout was now concluding, with regret I began to reach down for my bra and panties – when with a chiding ‘tut, tut’, Ms Brewster stopped me.
‘I like to give it to a girl, hard and strong, as you’ve seen – but I also like to receive – and equally hard and strong, too!’
‘Oh?’ I said, not very brightly, and then my sexual stupor cleared a little, and I realised what she meant and wanted. With a galvanic thrill, I grabbed the dildo and held it aloft, the black harness straps dangling.
‘It would sure be my pleasure, Ms Brewster, indeed it would!’ I gasped, with a grin spreading from ear to ear.
Smiling back, the mature lesbian took another object from the filing cabinet drawer which had held the strap-on, and I saw that it was some kind of foam-backed cushion, quite thin but larger in area than a standard chair seat or back. The company CEO placed it on her desk, almost in the exact spot which I had occupied just seconds before, and I realised that she must fuck – and get fucked – very frequently in her office to make it worthwhile to obtain such an object and keep it here.
Facing me, and with a sultry expression that made her lips pout provocatively, Ms Brewster reached behind her back and unclipped her bra, tossing it over the desk to land on her seat’s chair, on top of her mini-skirt. Then, with her heavy and slightly sagging bared breasts drawing my eyes like magnets, the sexy businesswoman lay down on her back on the cushion, with her tits pointing at the ceiling. Almost ponderously, she shifted her legs apart until her pussy was fully in view.
I swallowed, took another gulp from the glass of clear cold water, quickly buckled the strap-on into place, and came to stand in the wide space between Ms Brewster’s meaty thighs. Although she was in the supine position, I had no doubt at all about who was in charge here – she still exuded authority, and I was only too willing to do whatever was her bidding. The middle-aged woman cupped her bulky but still firm breasts in both her hands, pushing them up towards me.
‘Lick them ... suck them ...’ she instructed me, her voice like warm honey in it smoothness, as she gazed at me through half-lidded eyes.
I bent over eagerly, for I had been longing to taste her tits ever since she had bared them, and I grasped her left breast in one hand whilst my mouth swooped down like a hawk on her right nipple. As I sucked the flesh of her aureole into my mouth and rasped my tongue around and across her engorged peak, I tweaked and pulled her other tit with my hand. I was rewarded by deep grunts of satisfaction and a visible sign that I was turning her on, for she spread her legs open even wider. In so doing, her pelvis thrust forwards, and her cunt bumped against the plastic rod that was hanging down between my legs.
‘Fuck me now!’ she ordered, feeling the tip of the dildo pressing against her pussy; ‘C’mon, bitch – show me what you can do – give it your best shot, you slut! Fuck me hard, real hard – fucking do me!!’
Her words were music to my ears, and I stood upright, gripped her waist, and adopted the complete opposite of her earlier tactics – far from a slow penetration, I shoved the dildo into her like a homing missile, and then began shafting her like a bucking bronco, with my hips pivoting dementedly to pump the strap-on cock in and out of her pussy at a frenetic pace. There was no subtlety to this at all – it was hyper-charged, full-voltage cunt-fucking, and it soon had the desired effect.
Gazing up at me saucer-eyed, Ms Brewster’s mouth hung open as she panted for breath, and her pelvis jerked upwards spasmodically in response to my almost savage penetrations. I released her hips and shifted my grip to her breasts, gabbing a handful of the malleable flesh in each hand and relentlessly twisting and squeezing it.
‘Oh! Fuck! ... oh, shit! ... yes, you bitch, go on, fuck ... aaahh ... yeah, c’mon, you cunt, really fuck me!’ she gasped – and then her back arched, and she almost screamed:
‘AAAHHH!! FUCK!! YES! I’M COMING! FUCK ME, YOU LITTLE BITCH! FUCK ME, YES!!! AAAGGGHHH!!!’
Ms Brewster’s whole body shivered and shook, her nostrils flared, spittle flew from her open mouth, and a flood of pussy-juice coursed out of her vulva and sprayed across her desktop as I mercilessly slammed the dildo in yet again, so carried away by the lustful heat of the moment that I did not register that she had just climaxed. The effect of this further penetration was to blow her right over the top, and her hands seized mine, grinding downwards on her breasts, whilst her hips spasmed in a second shattering climax.
The sight of this majestic mature businesswoman so utterly fucked by my rough dildoing of her cunt was incredibly erotic, and without withdrawing the plastic cock from Ms Brewster’s pussy, I reached down, loosened one of the side straps, and frantically squirmed my right hand in behind the dildo’s faceplate. With a satisfied whimper, I found my own slit, and pressed up under the top to rub frantically on my clitoris, which within seconds produced an orgasm like a dam bursting, releasing the flood of my arousal. I gave a broken cry, and collapsed forwards to lie on top of Ms Brewster’s solid form, and she put her arms around me and kissed me on the forehead.
We lay like that for two or three minutes, companionably close and sharing the wondrous sensation of having been thoroughly, completely, earth-movingly lesbo-fucked. Finally, and with evident regret, Ms Brewster said we would have to call time for today, as she had a charity fund-raising dinner to attend in the evening, and needed to drive home, shower and change into an evening dress beforehand. She produced from her filing cabinet (which I soon came to call the ‘fucking cabinet’) two medium-sized towels, and we rubbed ourselves down and sprayed on enough deodorant to at least look and smell respectable for leaving the building.
As we got dressed, Ms Brewster explained her revision of my final clause – it was her intention that once a month we would meet here, after her employees had gone home, as she loved having sex in her office. However, for the second occasion, I would come to her house on a designated Saturday afternoon, and stay overnight. Ms Brewster told me that she did not have a permanent partner, but rather ‘enjoyed the company of a few like-minded friends’ from amongst the other powerful business and professional women in the city; they were all single, and met every weekend for their regular ‘gathering’. Once each month it was Ms Brewster’s turn to be the host – and with that came the duty to provide some delectable younger pussy to pleasure these experienced and assertive dykes. She added:
‘Trisha – that’s my PA, you’ve met her, of course – is a regular guest, and so is pretty little Amiko, my intern – you’ve seen her? She may look demure, but she’s an almost insatiable submissive, she just soaks it up, whatever you do to her and however many of you do it! Anyway, I think you’ll be a lovely addition to our fun and games ... in fact, I think you’ll go down very well.’
‘Oh, yes!’ I assured her, enraptured at the prospect, for it sounded like a full-on 24-hour lesbian orgy with sophisticated and powerful mature women – my idea of heaven. I smiled in anticipation, as I thought: for you, and more hot cunts like you – I’ll go down, and go down, and go down, just as often and as long as you want me to!
If you enjoyed this, check out my other all-girl lesbian stories ... you might like them too ... (to find them, follow the author link at the top of this story)
