Still, George always came up with new sex inventions and we heard about some of them from his new friends. I felt bad about it because I wanted to try some of them only George pulled the plug on his interest with us. Like one of his machines, he just turned us off.
So we had to look around for other sensations.
Which weren’t hard to find in an office building as big as ours.
By this time that football hero had a fight with Madelaine so she was dating Sammy Brown, and Sammy had a lot of friends in the mail room. Good-looking men, handsome women, and they were normal like the rest of us. They all enjoyed a good gang-bang.
It was hard to get fucked in the office. Oh, sure there were plenty of eager beavers, people who enjoyed sex and were not afraid to admit it, and there were lots of others who sneaked around with their heads on crooked because they pretended sex didn’t exist. Still, it was very difficult to get laid in the office. The place was like Grand Central Station with people coming and going at all hours until a girl was lucky if she found a place where she could get stuck. I got it in the stockroom and the lunchroom, and one time I let a guy fuck me in the stairway. I needed it so bad one day that I put the make on one of those young runners who brought documents to the office. Like all young studs, he had a perpetual hard-on, so I just let him fuck me. We got between floors and that healthy bastard fucked me up and down the stairs with such frantic pleasure it left bruises on my back. He felt so good afterward that he’ll ran down the stairs, whistling all the way. And then had to ride the elevator back to get his runner pouch.
But mostly there wasn’t much opportunity to get screwed at the office. So as a rule we made our plans there and then met elsewhere for the fuck parties.
Still one definite fact remains. If a girl wants to get fucked bad enough she is going to get it, whether it’s on top of a desk at high noon or in the broom closet down the hall.
And that’s the way it was with those guys in the mail room.
Madelaine came to my desk one say and told me Bruce Cabotie had the hots for me.
“I don’t even know him,” I admitted.
“Sure you do, Martha. Bruce is that Italian guy with the mustache. The one who’s always singing when he’s on break.”
“I still can’t place him.”
“Well, anyway, he wants to screw you.”
“Send him around!”
“He wants a date with you.”
The idea was so old-fashioned, it really appealed to me. Having a third party as a go-between to get a date. I didn’t even know what Bruce looked like, but I told Madelaine okay. And I asked her what happened with her football hero.
“He was too square for me,” she said. “Remember, that night at Doreen’s place? Well, afterwards he cried like a baby and wanted me to promise nothing else like that would ever happen again. He even apologized for screwing around the way he did. It made me sick. That square wants things to be the way they used to be. Fuck him! I ain’t never gonna be a slave to some fucking stud.”
She really got violent when she talked about it so I changed the subject back to Bruce.
“Bring him out and let me meet him,” I asked.
“Naw, that ain’t the way he works, Martha. He wants to pick you up at your apartment Friday at eight.”
“What if I don’t like him?”
“Oh, you’ll like him okay. He’s a handsome bastard and he really can sing. If you like that opera crap.”
So I agreed to the blind date and Bruce came for me right on the dot at eight o’clock. I really got the willies when I opened the door and got a look at him. He was about six feet tall, with a swarthy complexion, dark bushy hair, and a twinkle in his eyes that spelled wild sex. I fell for him right off and asked him in.
Who needed a fucking movie when my bed was ready and waiting!
CHAPTER TEN
Bruce was nervous in my apartment so I fixed us a drink and turned on some music. I tried to find a record that he would like, something with opera, but all my records were rock or soul music.
“Anything’s fine,” he smiled when he saw me fumbling around.
His smile was contagious and Bruce gave me a feeling unlike anything I had experienced. Honest to God, I think I was falling in love with this handsome brute, and it was a delicate, beautiful sensation. Except that my emotions got all twisted until I was thinking about kissing, and squeezing, and hugging, instead of having all my thoughts center between my legs.
But for all my thoughts, I still wanted him to fuck me so I let him do it.
He was different from the usual run of men who realized they had a willing partner. Bruce took me into the bedroom instead of attacking me right there on the sofa. We undressed in the dark and slid between the sheets and he began to feel me up.
“Oooh, you’ve got nice breasts, Martha!” he whispered.
I already knew that, but I didn’t know how strange his hands would feel. I know it was all in my head, from the reaction to how I felt about him, still his hands burned with a fire I had never experienced. He massaged my titties with strong fingers, and then he pinched my nipples.
“Mmmmmmm!” I moaned with pleasure.
I was ready for fucking right then, but Bruce was a lover. And that’s a lot different than a fucker.
He kissed me and he fondled me, he touched me and he teased me, until I was almost crazy with desire. When he finally put his finger into my cunt I had a juicy orgasm that made me groan with delight.
“Do it to me, Bruce! Oh please fuck me!”
Yet he kept me dangling.
Touch. Squeeze. Massage. Kiss.
I forgot he was somebody special and tried to attack him, but Bruce was a strong guy. He held me off while he put his leg up between my crotch. When I felt that manly flesh rubbing the lips of my cunt, I started to blubber with passion, but then he stuck his tongue in my ear.
I went berserk.
No matter how strong Bruce was, I needed a fuck right now, and I rolled him over in the bed to mount him with sexual ferocity.
“Not yet, Martha!” he forced me back again. “Not just yet, honey!”
I could have killed him.
It just wasn’t right for a guy to get a girl this worked up and then leave her dangling. I needed a pecker, and I needed it right now!
And that’s when a thought flashed though my mind. We got undressed in the dark and I never did see Bruce’s prick. While he got me so damn hot, I forgot all about messing around with him! Maybe he never even had a prick?
One deft thrust of my hand and I discovered he had one all right. A hard, stiff, ready-to-bust cock that felt just the right size.
“Stick it in me,” I begged. “For chrissakes, do it to me, Bruce!”
He did.
He got on top of me and kissed me frantically, then he inserted that tool between my legs.
“Yeeoooowww!” I screeched, coming instantly before it was halfway in. “Oooooooooooowwwwwww!”
Bruce had a nice cock, he fucked me long, he fucked me strong, and he made me a woman for a night. Then when it was over he kissed me and hugged me, and said endearing words until I fell asleep.
In the middle of the night I woke from a sexually satisfying dream to find that Bruce was fucking me doggy-fashion, silently, with all the fury at his command. I didn’t even move a muscle. I just lay there silently to enjoy a stolen fuck, and when he got me to orgasm again I fell asleep while he clung to me with a frantic effort to catch up on his fucking.