The Cast Members

Presenting: Ms. Susan Massey .

Susan Massey.
I don't think there has ever before been a woman who, when I was first introduced to her, made me react on such a fundamentally physical level. Perhaps that has more to do with my age than anything different between her and the other women I've known. All my previous encounters seem to have followed the route of; meeting, then the "getting to know you" bit, then finding a common dialog, and then progressing to a relationship. Susan and I seemed to skip through the 'getting to know you' bit. We seemed to get the dialog almost immediately.

It's an episode from my life, which I hold dear to my heart.

Before we get started, I know, I know, that what you see above is not picture of my Susan. There is no way I could get her to even pose for an office photo, let alone something like a picture of her, semi naked. No, this image is one I found on a newsgroup and is just a pretty close approximation to my Susan.

It's like the old saying about the 'actual axe with which Washington chopped down the tree. All that has been changed is that it has a new handle, and a new head.'

She and I were the closest of friends until I left the country to follow my fortunes in the new world. We are still friends but I somehow think that she will not forgive me for leaving her like that.

Anyhow, let me tell you a story of how we met...

I remember getting a phone call, telling me that a new arrival in the department was having trouble with setting herself up on one of the systems I was responsible for. It was patently obvious that she had screwed up on the directions I had written in the setup documents and usually that was the cue for any of us in the systems area to lay into the victim with a barrage of sarcasm and condescension. But her voice sounded pretty good and so I did what all good systems engineers do -- I dropped what I was doing so that I could help a girlie.

Jon will tell you, if you were to ask him :) that I am not one to shy away from a good slanging match but I still recall the ribbing I got from him that evening as he described the way I was nearly salivating at her presence.

Susan arrived on our floor with a sheaf of papers clutched in her hand and the sort of confused look we always recognised on the face of newcomers. Our department was laid out in roughly the same way that the Cairo market is organised. There were cubicles in islands, there were pieces of loosely coupled equipment and there were no maps.

Eventually she asked for directions and was pointed in my direction. From over the top of my workstation, I watched her coming through the maze towards me. She hurried with that purposeful gait which makes each step a tight 'launching' of her body. Her rich dark hair bobbed with the motion of her walk. She stepped as if she might have been trained for the catwalk, her hips leading her movement, her feet treading a straight line down the middle of the path.

I found myself staring.

She arrived at the edge of my desk and I tried my best welcoming smile.

It seemed to work, which scared to life out of me. Her friendly smile was dazzling in a nearly megawatt manner. I was undergoing a complete collapse of my self-control and she had only just walked up to my desk.

Of course, Jon was soon there too. He was infallible in his ability to 'sniff' a new female in the office. This time he was even less subtle than normal. Her problem was a really simple one. I recognised that she had simply misread one of the commands I had designed and was entering what the system saw as a part of the preceding data.
Jon was amazed that I didn't employ my normal technique of telling the user to fuck off and get a grown-up to do their work for them. He could tell that she was doing something really strange to me.

The two of us engaged her is a conversation, which began to range all over the map. We sorted her problem within minutes and for once, a member of the user community was not running from our group like a whipped pup.

By the time a long enough period had elapsed that we were all in danger of losing our jobs for slacking, we had agreed that she should come to lunch with us (by now, lunchtime was in just a few minutes.) She hurried off to get her bag and we moved off to wait for her in the lobby.

By the end of the first month. The three of us were regular lunch-goers. Jon and I had our interests in martial arts and systems programming and she would listen with that sort of 'tolerant' air. She was wonderfully witty in that, 'down-to-Earth-sensibility' way. She was sarcastic when we needed it, she took our jibes in her stride and she wasn't afraid of a few swearwords in a conversation.
That, and she made a very good drinking companion (we would usually visit the pub of lunchtime, it's traditional in England.)

You know, I would love to say that I could recall the exact train of thought or conversation that lead us further along in the relationship. But I honestly can't. I don't have that sort of memory.

I will tell you what I remember of the events though.

Ok, so, I was responsible for organising the company's disaster recovery plan. In my case, that meant having to ensure that we could rebuild the computer's operating system image from our backups and then run the key applications so that the company could continue to do whatever it did. As part of the testing, I would co-opt various members of the user community to come in and run their test cases on our recovered system. Usually, we sysprogs would treat them like the trained monkeys they were. Susan was considered one of us though. So she received special treatment, like being allowed onto the raised-floor where we were busy playing solitaire and minesweeper or keeping the beer cans cool under the floor tiles (Disaster Recovery Tests are like money for old rope when you have an experienced team.) The system, after a while, runs itself and unless a tragedy were to occur, we were only there 'just in case.'

There was a team of four of us plus Susan, sitting in the control bridge and watching the system... do whatever it was supposed to be doing.

Oh, did I mention that, because we had to do these test out of normal hours, it was pretty late at night? Well, it was about 23:00 and we'd just finished the last of the pizza and were beginning to feel that tired sort of buzz that hits you after a long shift. I was slouched in a chair and Susan had herself a perch on the table next to me. She sat there with a piece of pizza, nibbling it. Her shoes were off because it was warm in that room.

I was just being idle, but I leant over and began to massage one of her feet whilst chatting to Jon. It was just a casual thing. I am usually pretty much a touchy-feely sort of person so it was not anything out of the ordinary.

After a few minutes of gentle rubbing and manipulation of her toes I realised that something had changed. Susan was no longer involved in our conversation. Instead, she had a look of very deliberate concentration on her face and she was staring -- really oddly.

I turned to her and asked whether she was alright and she turned her eyes to mine.

She had a blush on her face and pupils so dilated that she seemed drunk. She pulled her foot out of my hands quite abruptly.

"I can't cope with you doing that to me," she said in a voice, which was nearly a groan.

Slow I might be, but I was certainly swift enough to recognise someone who is seriously turned on. "You got sensitive feet then?" I grinned.

"You better believe it!" she half-whispered.

Now, I am not a very forward sort of guy. I have a real fear of rejection and just sort of go through life hoping that things will turn out for the best. So I can't imagine I would have said anything clever, like "how about we go somewhere quiet and find out how much you like your feet touched then." I might like to think I could have said it, but I am sure I didn't.

But somehow, we both came to a mutual understanding.

I announced to the room, after a short delay, that I was going to go and have a coffee and sit quietly somewhere out of the noisy computer room. I stood up and 'casually' moved to the door.
Looking back into the room, I looked at Sue and she stood and said that she'd like a coffee too.

I waited for her to put her shoes back on and we both walked out of the computer room. Neither of us said anything. I don't think I could have made any sort of sense if I had tried.

We took the elevator up to the ninth floor, where the company restaurant was, and walked into the coffee lounge.

As normal, at that time of the night, the building was empty and the lounge was only partly illuminated by a couple of small lamps and the lights of the vending machines. I turned toward Susan and asked her if she wanted a coffee.

She replied that she didn't and it was at that point that I realised we both knew what we were going to do there.

The coffee lounge was built in the corner of the office building and had windows along the two outer walls. It faced West and North and gave us a view of the city, which spread out under us in its golden sodium glow. See? I can remember scenery but I can't remember what we said. Really annoys me, that does.

I knelt on the low, upholstered bench, which ran along the bottom of the window and looked out at the night. I felt Susan close beside me, looking out too. There was a Ficus plant on my left and I could feel the urge to lean away from her into it, in case she didn't mean for me to be touching her. The place where our arms touched was so hot. I tried to remain very still, so that I wouldn't break contact.

Then, and this is what I would love to be able to remember, we were turned around and I was sitting on the seat and Susan was half turned around and I had her in my arms, cradling her shoulders in my lap.

It was quiet except for the mad buzzing of the coffee machine and the whisper of the air conditioning. That, and the almighty noise of my heart beating in my throat. I could hear the 'Lupp, Dupp' of the thing as it tried to disgorge itself. I felt my head dropping lower and lower towards Susan's and the noise in my throat got louder and louder.

Susan didn't seem to notice though. She seemed intent, serious. Her eyes, not really looking at me.

We kissed, on the mouths. Susan's tongue slid into mine like a sweet, warm friend's should. The beating of my heart calmed down immediately and I fell into her. Our lips were glued together, the whoosh of our breaths running into each other's nostrils. It was warm and intimate and really, really exciting.

We parted and I looked into her face. Her eyes darted back and forth between mine and I could smell her sweet breath. (even though we'd both been eating pizza :) )

"Coo, that was nice." I said, cleverly.

Susan smiled at me and turned fully around so that she lay with her head in my lap, facing up at me.

"Very nice," she agreed.

I regained her kiss and let my mouth work all around her throat and into her hair. Kissing under her ear and smelling the clean fragrance of her hair.

There is a joy. One that comes from that particular moment when you suddenly realise that someone else wants to share themselves with you. That feeling of 'thickness' the ability to suddenly feel -- all over yourselves. I was in the full throes of that joy. I wanted to swallow her. I wanted her to surround me. And this was when it was going to happen.

She was wearing a denim shirt and light coloured Capri pants (although we called them 'pedal-pushers' in England.) The shirt was soft in that comfortably washed sort of way and she made it clear by her body language that my hand should travel over the cloth. As I kissed her face, I felt her pushing her chest up towards where I had laid my hand.

I cupped her breast.

That, of itself, is an act, which cannot be passed off as a small affection. Even the deep snogging we were enjoying could, perhaps, be viewed as a simple diversion. But here I was and she was allowing me to touch her: sexually.

Susan murmured her appreciation into my mouth. She pushed herself into close contact with me. I lifted my knees to bring her into me and I nuzzled into her throat, wetting her skin with my tongue.

"Do you want me to stop?" I asked, a smile in my voice.

"Nope."

"How about if I pull off your shoes and nibble your toes?"

Susan went detectably rigid in my arms and she moaned into my ear.

"Ooh, Christ, don't say that! I can't cope with that sort of thing. My feet are really sensitive!"

It was pretty obvious that she was almost afraid of how much effect that sort of contact had on her. I teasingly leaned over to her legs and ran my hand along the front of her outstretched legs towards her shoes. She groaned and tried to stretch her toes away from my hand.

"Noooooo."

I managed to get a warm, firm grip on her instep and squeezed her foot. Her arms hugged my body and she muffled something she had said into my waist. It was an awkward position, but I didn't want to change in case it should break the moment. I managed to get a shoe to hang off her foot and went to slide my fingers under, to her sole.
Susan wriggled like an eel and dragged her foot away.

"No!!"

She held me still tight and I sat up to see her face was flushed. She panted and her eyes were dark pools. "No," she said, more quietly, "It's too much."

I sat up and we kissed some more but her breasts were too tempting to ignore for long and I resumed my exploration.
We both watched as my fingers worried the buttons undone and the smooth warmth of her chest was slowly revealed. I plucked the front clasp of her bra and the wonders of her breasts were revealed. I sigh even now when I remember that moment. Sue had her eyes closed and was rubbing her cheek against my arm. I captured the wondrously smooth flesh of her breast and found her nipple to be small and hard and warm between my thumb and finger.

We resumed our kissing and I massaged her as thoroughly as I could. Stroking her side up to the shoulder, enjoying the weight of her, not overly large, right breast. Her breathing was powerful and deep as she lay in my arms.

Eventually, my hand took us both to the next logical stage. It drifted lower across her twitching stomach muscles towards the button at the right side of her pants. I popped it undone and then, with surprisingly little difficulty, slid the zipper down to open them completely at the side of her hip. My palm slipped sideways onto the front of her panties and I could feel Susan's sex for the first time.

I recall a statement, written somewhere, that if a woman should ever actually secrete fluids as copiously as the stories you read on A.S.S, then she'd best go to see a doctor. But when I read a story that does describe something to that effect, I always recall Susan's pussy at that moment. Although she wasn't awash, the stickiness and slipperiness and heat was more 'copious' than I had ever experienced before. I slipped my fingers over the hot wetness into the cleft between her legs and we both luxuriated in the feelings.

"These have to come down," I whispered to her and tried, unsuccessfully, to use one hand to force her pants down over her hips. I bet it was a little rough for her and expected her to stop me. Instead, she raised her hips to see if I could manage any better from a new angle.

I couldn't; and so I slipped away from underneath her and knelt on the floor as she lay on the cushions in front of me. She looked wonderful. The blush on her face, the gaping shirt with her tits framed by her lacy bra, the long expanse of her tummy as it sloped down to her waist. I Told her as much and covered her again, hoping that this would not end suddenly.

It was a lot easier to slide her pants and her underwear down her thighs. Neither of us spoke much at all as she revealed herself to me.

Oh, but she was (is) pretty. Flawless skin, a pretty belly button, a curve to her thighs which made my eyes ache for her. The small triangle of her dark pubic hair was not overabundant, it was a fascinating place for me. I kissed my way from her throat, via her nipples and navel, to where her wetness was. She had a scent, which I won't even attempt to describe.

Well, ok, I will try. It wasn't a heavy musk. Nor was it one of those light, lemon fragrances, which some girls have. Susan's scent, which flooded into my nose as I buried my face into her pussy, was of honey. I don't mean the cliche that she tasted of honey, her scent reminded me of that syrupy, meadow-filled fragrance which is clean and fresh and rushes straight to the 'Go on, get an erection' centre of the brain.

Within minutes of arriving at the coffee lounge, there I was, knelt next to Susan as she spread her knees wide, trousers bunched around her ankles, and I busied my tongue in licking her to a climax.

I love cunnilingus.

Let me say that again, I LOVE CUNNILINGUS.

I have a theory about oral sex too. To the giver, it is not an act, which brings a significant amount of sexual stimulation. Of course, there are exceptions to that statement.

So, oral sex is performed for the sole gratification of the receiver. I love the thought that a woman knows I am licking her simply for the pleasure it brings to her. Just as I love the thought that when she sucks me off, it is because she wants me to enjoy that. Moreover, the knowledge that it is being performed because the 'giver' wants to perform it is the ultimate aphrodisiac.

All that said, I love the texture and the smell and the taste of a woman. The tanginess of her innermost depths. The slight roughness of her hairs on the wetness of her lips. The strength of her legs as they grip the sides of my head.

Susan squirmed and bucked gently under me as I maintained a firm rhythm on her. My nose buried inside her and my chin working on the front of her mound. She came gently. She shuddered a couple of times and there were a few squeaks, which caught in her throat, and her thighs drummed softly against my ears. Eventually I felt her hands trying to push me off her.

"No more, no more," she panted.

I sat back on my heels and looked at her. I know my face and chin were soaked in her oils but I fought the urge to wipe them on the back of my hand. I feel that looks too much like bad table manners (if you get my meaning.) Susan looked completely relaxed. There was no need for her to even attempt to conceal anything. Her legs were still splayed open and the tangled knot of her pussy was smeared with my saliva and her secretions. She was pink.

We kissed again, she showed no concern that I must have reeked of her and our kisses were wetter and messier for it. I used my fingers on her and began a gently probing of her with my index and middle finger whilst my thumb circled on her clitoris. I didn't make her come that way but she enjoyed the feeling.

Eventually, she broke the kiss and turned under me to attend to the clasp of my belt. She pulled the button undone on my jeans and then jerked the zipper down. Soon, I had my boxers at my knees and my cock twitching in front of her.

Isn't it stupid, the things which suddenly seem important in these situations?

"Where is the security guard?" The thought suddenly flashed in my head.
 
"Is he on his rounds? Would he check the coffee lounge?"
"I don't have any condoms, does Sue want to go the whole way tonight?"
"Would I want to risk anything without a rubber?"
"But I want her! I want to slide inside her. She looks so lovely and clean and fuckable and lovely and she's there in front of me!"
"But the guard."
"Are these a clean pair of undies?"

The dialog went on and on, until Sue spoke.

She spoke as she reached over and took my cock in her small hand. She almost seemed to be speaking to him.

"We don't have any rubbers do we?"

"No," I choked.

"We can't -- then -- you know -- do it. Not tonight."

"I know." I said

"There's a guard too..."

"I know. It's alright."

"But I want you." (That was a nice thing to hear.) "I want you to enjoy this too, and you look as if you need some sort of help." I couldn't disagree with her but I couldn't actually come right out and ask her to do anything specific.

She tugged me forwards by my knob and opened her mouth to accept me.

"Let's do this quick then."

And she swallowed me into her mouth and used her tongue and sucked and licked and held my balls and used her tongue and sucked and slid her face back and forth on me and sucked and slurped and looked so fucking gorgeous and her pussy felt lovely as I churned my fingers inside her and she slid me in and out and groaned and then; we came.

I think we both came at the same time. I told her I was about to come. Calling her name over and over as I froze and let my cock spit my semen onto her tongue. She rubbed her hips up and down on my hand and I felt her spasms on my knuckles. Her hot breath from her nostrils made my balls clench one last time and she finished with a noisy 'plop' as she let my cock go from her mouth.

I dropped down onto her and kissed her again. I could taste my come on her tongue, like olives. The kiss told me much.

At last, we had both come. The fact that I was still as hard as iron and we both knew we wanted to slide me inside her and fuck the night away, didn't detract from the fact that we had to stop right there.

I pulled her panties back up to cup her pussy neatly. Then I helped pull her pants back up. She swung her legs off the couch and sat up, fixing her bra, shirt and pants. I got myself dressed and we both fell back into another snogging session.

Which ended only when the sound of the city clock, on the tower to the West, chiming Midnight alerted us to the fact that this coffee had taken an hour to drink. We both stood and hugged and went to our respective washrooms to tidy up. I have to admit to having to have another quick one off the wrist before I felt relaxed enough to venture outside.

Susan stood in the corridor outside the men's room and looked beautiful.

"Looks like we got ourselves a serious problem here," she said, walking up to me and taking my arm.

"What do you mean?" I asked, looking down at her at my side.

"It looks like we're going to be one of those obvious 'secret office romances.' Just the sort of juvenile things that you lot always gossip and giggle about."

"I know, I know." I said.

I am sure I was grinning about that idea.

F.S

Oct 2000