Office sales call

Bob Mathews was the quality assurance manager of the new products division at Farthing Software, successful enough to merit a corner office on the fifteenth floor. He was reviewing notes from his latest meeting when startled by the appearance of a striking woman in her mid-thirties wearing a pitch-black pantsuit, carrying a large sample case.

“Excuse me…?” he began.

“Hello, I’m Carol Parker from G-Case Products,” the woman said. “We had an appointment this morning to discuss our product line.”

Bob belatedly checked his calendar and discovered he had indeed scheduled the company for that morning. Carol continued: “We have a novel approach to code repositories that offers your team higher reliability and greater productivity. I’ve brought several demo packages—if you’ll let me use your computer briefly.”

Bob rolled his chair aside as the woman walked past his desk, inserted a floppy disk, and launched the installation. His attention drifted to a faint, almost musky scent he couldn’t quite identify. He was so distracted that Carol had to call his name twice before he heard her.

“I’ve placed the main program in your DEMO folder,” she said, standing behind him.

Bob just registered the press of her suit jacket against his shoulders but tried to focus on the software. The demo proved impressive, and when finished, Bob honestly admitted his interest, asking for more materials from her sample case.

He seized the chance to adjust his pants—now uncomfortably tight—as she walked away. Carol’s posture, bent over her case, didn’t help as her skirt clung eagerly to her hips. She stood, and Bob quickly averted his gaze before she noticed him staring.

Carol returned with two more disks to install.

“What kind of perfume is that anyway?” Bob wondered.

As she worked, he covertly studied her profile—from the chestnut pageboy haircut to her angular nose and the distinct curve of her breasts beneath the jacket. This time, he looked at the screen when she finished, and she suggested he operate the demo while she observed.

The new package was a standard “slideshow” summarizing her company software’s features. Carol stood close, commenting on each slide.

Suddenly, an image appeared that clearly didn’t belong—a color photo of a woman in a black bra and red panties, her hand pushing the underwear down with fingers tangled in pubic hair—clearly masturbating. Her eyes were closed, a flush visible across her exposed cleavage, fingers wet and glistening.

Bob’s breath caught as his erection returned full force.

“What…,” he began, looking at Carol, back at the photo, then at Carol again. No doubt about the face.

“Yes, that’s me,” Carol said, reaching into her pocket, “and since you seemed so…interested earlier, I thought you’d appreciate this photo. These go with it.”

With that, she pulled red panties from her pocket, dragged them across Bob’s nose, and placed them in his hands. That odd musk scent returned—now he knew its source.

“I’ll assume your door locks? Don’t stand,” she added. “Doubt you want the secretaries learning about your…little problem.”

She sauntered to the door, closed it, and turned the lock.

“Now,” she said, “since you’ve seen so much of me, I’d like to see what you’re hiding down there.”

Carol approached Bob and lightly rested her hand on his crotch.

“Will you do it, or shall I?” she smiled.

Bob stood, unbuckled his belt, yanked his zipper down, and dropped his pants. Then he peeled off his briefs—his cock slapped heavily against his stomach as it sprang free.

Carol stroked his fleshy shaft with her panties, her breathing quickening at the sight of his throbbing member.

“Lovely,” she said. “Why not slip these on? Let’s see what they do for you.”

Bob blushed but couldn’t deny the arousal her words sparked.

He sat, removed his shoes and socks, stepped out of his pants, and worked the red panties up his legs. They were ludicrously small—his balls fit inside, but only a few inches of his cock.

Carol approached, weighed his silk-wrapped testicles in her palm, and flicked her thumbnail against the purple-tinged glans. Then she wrapped her arms around him and kissed him fiercely.

Their tongues dueled as she ground her skirt against him, rocking to feel his excitement. She pushed Bob back into his chair, spread his legs, leaned forward, and blew on him—hot, damp air across pulsing flesh—while inhaling his musk.

“Let Carol show you how to maximize your potential,” she murmured, sealing her ruby lips around his glans.

Bob squirmed as she moved up and down, his cock trapped between the ridged roof of her mouth and rasping tongue. He gripped the chair tighter when Carol accelerated, varying her rhythm, occasionally releasing him with an audible “plop!” before engulfing him again.

Soon—too soon—he felt the familiar tension in his balls, and when she caressed them through the silk, it pushed him over the edge.

“Aargghh!” “Urrrggg!” “Ummffff!”

Bob groaned through clenched teeth, hips bucking repeatedly as Carol’s mouth and throat drained him. His heart raced, the air chilling him when she licked him clean and did something to his cock and balls.

She lifted her head and smiled wickedly, tongue protruding.