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CougarGirl
Star
- Joined
- Nov 5, 2013
She’s one of the senior managers, way above my pay grade. Emily Richards she’s called. She passes us mere mortals as she strides into her office in sharp trousers and blouse or a dark business suit. We never really see her at work, she’s always locked away somewhere deciding something important. But I’ve noticed her, have done ever since I joined the firm last summer. She’s noticed me too. And so she should. I’m a good looking guy and I take care of myself, dress smart, keep fit, look good. Younger than her, but that’s what she needs. A stud who can satisfy her properly.
I get my chance at the Christmas party. She’s there, but separate from the rest of us, sitting with the staff from her private office. I spotted her as soon as I arrived. It was her dress you see. So unusual for her. Not dark and business-like, but pink, soft and float with sparkling white beads. When she dances, the whole dress shimmers and you can see her body flowing with the rhythm of the beat.
I bide my time, have a couple of drinks, put myself around a bit. Not making it obvious. I just join the dance floor and glide around, presenting myself to the girls in turn, giving them the chance to dance with someone who knows how to move, letting everyone see my body in action. And Emily notices me. She pretends not to, but I see her in the reflections of the mirrors. She’s giving a good looking over and she likes what she sees. She makes sure she’s always showing herself off for me, moving around to ensure there’s always a line of sight between us.
Finally, I glide over and dance around a bit. She gives me the eye and I can see she’s undressing me with those eyes, putting on a bit more dazzle with that dress, letting it fly and swing, hinting at what’s underneath. I let her see my choicest moves, then I move in. Subtle and gentle, nothing disrespectful, always a gentleman. All I do is let me fingers gently stroke her ass. No one else would notice except the two of us, not with all those bodies whirling around.
But she stops dancing, turns and before I know it she’s grabbing me by the balls. Cool as you like. Doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and takes hold. I’m surprised, naturally, but it’s quite pleasant having her hand on me like that. But that grip gets tighter. I ask her to lay off, but maybe she doesn’t hear over the music. I shout louder:
‘Bitch, fucking bitch. Let go.’
It just happens that the volume drops and everyone hears me. They stop dancing and that stupid DJ stops the music. We’re the focus of everyone’s attention now. No one says anything. No one moves. No one tries to intervene, although the senior guy is over at a table and my manager is chatting to him.
She’s enjoying this, showing off her power over the small fry like me. I try to prise her fingers open, casually so that my pain doesn’t show, but she’s got a grip like a vice. Using the one weakness that I’ve got. That’s how she works, so people say, she spots a weakness and you’re done for. Well, I’ve got my pride and I’m not letting her show me up. Time to tell her, and everyone here, some truths about Miss Emily Perfect.
‘Dyke. Fucking dyke. Man hater.’
She doesn’t respond, just fixes me with her eyes and pulls me across the floor, leading me like a puppy on a chain and then, right in front of the boss and my manager, she tightens up, forcing me onto my knees, following me down, squatting so that I can see up her skirt between her thighs.
I can hear some of the girls giggling like they always do when a guy gets his nuts crushed. In the background I see some of the guys with their legs crossed and were wincing in sympathy.
I lean forward until our faces are inches apart. Let her see that I can take as good as she can give. Let her see my power. Let her feel it through my balls. She relaxes her grip, I smile and then she snaps her fist shut.
‘OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW’
No man could withstand that. I collapse to the floor and she releases me, standing there looking down. I stare up at her, up her skirt, right up to her crotch.
The crowd on the dance floor part for her as she walks back to her table and sits down. No one comes to help me, not only my so called friends. They all watch as I stagger to my feet. I manage to shout at her through my pain.
‘No wonder you can’t get a man to fuck you.’
Behind me I hear the music strike up as I limp out.
The DJ started the music again and soon everyone there had forgotten about the incident. Except me. She was something special. Someone to admire and respect. Someone I wanted to know. Someone I wanted to get closer to. She’ll pay for this disrespect.
I get my chance at the Christmas party. She’s there, but separate from the rest of us, sitting with the staff from her private office. I spotted her as soon as I arrived. It was her dress you see. So unusual for her. Not dark and business-like, but pink, soft and float with sparkling white beads. When she dances, the whole dress shimmers and you can see her body flowing with the rhythm of the beat.
I bide my time, have a couple of drinks, put myself around a bit. Not making it obvious. I just join the dance floor and glide around, presenting myself to the girls in turn, giving them the chance to dance with someone who knows how to move, letting everyone see my body in action. And Emily notices me. She pretends not to, but I see her in the reflections of the mirrors. She’s giving a good looking over and she likes what she sees. She makes sure she’s always showing herself off for me, moving around to ensure there’s always a line of sight between us.
Finally, I glide over and dance around a bit. She gives me the eye and I can see she’s undressing me with those eyes, putting on a bit more dazzle with that dress, letting it fly and swing, hinting at what’s underneath. I let her see my choicest moves, then I move in. Subtle and gentle, nothing disrespectful, always a gentleman. All I do is let me fingers gently stroke her ass. No one else would notice except the two of us, not with all those bodies whirling around.
But she stops dancing, turns and before I know it she’s grabbing me by the balls. Cool as you like. Doesn’t say anything, just reaches out and takes hold. I’m surprised, naturally, but it’s quite pleasant having her hand on me like that. But that grip gets tighter. I ask her to lay off, but maybe she doesn’t hear over the music. I shout louder:
‘Bitch, fucking bitch. Let go.’
It just happens that the volume drops and everyone hears me. They stop dancing and that stupid DJ stops the music. We’re the focus of everyone’s attention now. No one says anything. No one moves. No one tries to intervene, although the senior guy is over at a table and my manager is chatting to him.
She’s enjoying this, showing off her power over the small fry like me. I try to prise her fingers open, casually so that my pain doesn’t show, but she’s got a grip like a vice. Using the one weakness that I’ve got. That’s how she works, so people say, she spots a weakness and you’re done for. Well, I’ve got my pride and I’m not letting her show me up. Time to tell her, and everyone here, some truths about Miss Emily Perfect.
‘Dyke. Fucking dyke. Man hater.’
She doesn’t respond, just fixes me with her eyes and pulls me across the floor, leading me like a puppy on a chain and then, right in front of the boss and my manager, she tightens up, forcing me onto my knees, following me down, squatting so that I can see up her skirt between her thighs.
I can hear some of the girls giggling like they always do when a guy gets his nuts crushed. In the background I see some of the guys with their legs crossed and were wincing in sympathy.
I lean forward until our faces are inches apart. Let her see that I can take as good as she can give. Let her see my power. Let her feel it through my balls. She relaxes her grip, I smile and then she snaps her fist shut.
‘OOOOOOOOOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW’
No man could withstand that. I collapse to the floor and she releases me, standing there looking down. I stare up at her, up her skirt, right up to her crotch.
The crowd on the dance floor part for her as she walks back to her table and sits down. No one comes to help me, not only my so called friends. They all watch as I stagger to my feet. I manage to shout at her through my pain.
‘No wonder you can’t get a man to fuck you.’
Behind me I hear the music strike up as I limp out.
The DJ started the music again and soon everyone there had forgotten about the incident. Except me. She was something special. Someone to admire and respect. Someone I wanted to know. Someone I wanted to get closer to. She’ll pay for this disrespect.
