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Message-ID: <49579asstr$1098641404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Don Winslow <dwin2001@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} {Winslow} The Blonde at the Office (clothing, exhib.)
Lines: 161
Date: Sun, 24 Oct 2004 14:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "The Blonde txt.txt" begin>

The Blonde at the Office 

	
To this day I blame Lauren for my obsession.  She had had a few Tequilas, 
and was clearly getting sloughed.  We both had our eyes on the good-looking 
blonde with all the guys crowded around her at the other end of the bar.  
Lauren sat back, looked around the room, then leaned against me, snuggling 
close like we were suddenly buddies.  And then she whispered in my ear.  
What she said planted the sexy picture of the blonde firmly and forever in 
my brain.   After that, I couldn't get her out of my mind!


It began a couple of months ago.  One day, she was there; as if by magic.  
The word flew through the back rooms like wildfire; every one of the guys 
suddenly had to make a trip to the lobby.  There was a pretty blonde 
manning the front desk, the desk that had been left vacant for so many 
months.  There she sat: a slim, boyish looking girl with perky little 
breasts that she didn't mind showing you by way of a nice view provided by 
her sexy, low cut top.  A splay of silvery blond hair, cropped short, gave 
her a fresh, clean-cut look.


Of course, there were always a lot of buzz whenever Scott hired someone, 
especially a girl.   Mostly it was guys who went in for software design; 
the few chicks we had working for us, were quickly scoped out, and 
endlessly discussed.  Most of them were pretty ordinary looking; they never 
wore makeup, and didn't care how they dressed, looking like the guys in 
their clunky sneakers, loose sweatshirts, and baggy jeans.  So when Jackie, 
came bouncing in on the scene, all dolled up and looking good in her 
miniskirt and high-heeled boots, she instantly got everyone's attention.


Naturally, the new receptionist became the object of intense speculation 
among the always-horny gang of programmers.  And for some reason, one of 
the first questions raised was: did the bright bubbly blonde wear 
underwear?  That she never wore a bra (something she didn't actually need), 
was obvious.  One quick glance down the front of her dress as she leaned 
forward over her desk and smiled up at you, was enough to dispel all 
doubts.  Those frisky little titties were rolling around loose in there, 
just begging to be scooped out to be play with.  And if that wasn't enough, when 
she wore one of her tight cotton dresses, or a thin silky blouse, and you 
were close enough, with the right lighting conditions -- her hard little 
nipples made two precise points poking at the tightly-stretched front of the tucked-in blouse.  Brazen evidence, if any were needed. 


We often wondered what Scott had been smoking when he hired her.  Not that 
we objected, of course.  It was just that Scott spent most of his time lost 
in cyberspace and we were pretty sure he didn't even know that women 
existed!  And although this chick would knock the socks off any normal guy, 
it was hard to believe that Scott would have hired such a babe.  Yet here 
she was...and in our midst!


If Scott had been at all plugged-in, he would have seen she would be a 
definite distraction.   Guys were always bumping into each other, looking 
for any excuse to hang around the front desk. You could see why. It was 
hard to keep your eyes off her whenever the trim little blonde casually 
sauntered by, that neat, tight bottom of hers swaying so delightfully, high 
heels clicking rhythmically on the hard tile floor.  Did she wear anything 
under those skimpy miniskirts?  The guys wondered.  And they all agreed: if 
she wore panties at all, they had to be thongs because when she bent over 
and the little skirt would tighten down over that jutting butt of her, 
there was never the trace of a visible panty line. That had been checked 
out, repeatedly.


No doubt about it: This chick was hot!  More than that, she was friendly, 
especially with the guys.  She liked having them hanging around her desk.  
She'd light up when they'd come around.  They filled her in on the office 
gossip, told her stories, and soon learned that she loved dirty jokes.  You 
should have seen them trying to make time with her, making her laugh so 
they could watch her loose titties jiggling as she giggled at some raunchy 
story.  Just like they were doing now, in our corner at Fredo's.   


It was a Friday afternoon.  We always stopped at Fredo's after work on 
Fridays.  No one seemed to be in any particular hurry to go home.  The 
drinks were flowing freely.  At the other end of the long table Jackie sat 
in her usual circle of male attendants.  At our end of the table, two guys 
had launched into one of those drunken arguments.  Today's debate:  whether 
it was possible to catch a glimpse of a nipple barely restrained by the 
slinky dress our foxy receptionist had worn that day.


Several others joined in, all instant experts on the subject observing 
nipples.  Friday morning the alert had gone out --  one by one, the guys 
found reasons to trail by the front desk, surreptitiously checking out the 
latest situation.  There were reports of big blue-eyed Jackie smiling up at 
some unhinged client: the poor guy tripping over his tongue as he fumbled 
for his card, eyes glued to the front of the receptionist's dress, that 
form-fitted dress that strained to contain its precious cargo of small, 
cuddly tits.  The taut bodice was tented by twin points, brash nipples that 
stuck straight up at him, promising nipples that were brazenly evident 
through the thinly-stretched floral print.  


Lauren was sitting beside me, saying nothing, taking it all in; this guy-
talk secretly amused her. She had a knowing smile on her lips, and as the 
guys rambled on, that barely-contained smile widened into a sexy smirk.


Now it so happened that Lauren knew Jackie pretty well, at least better 
than anybody at that table.  She and a few of the other girls went out 
together on Wednesday nights to work out at the spa, and soon Jackie was 
soon tagging along.  Naturally, the girls all got to see a lot of each 
other -- when they changed in the locker room.  If anyone at that table had 
actually seen our receptionist in her underwear, it would have been Lauren.  
I watched her take another sip of Tequila, brush back a shock of fine 
auburn hair. 

Then, in one of those rare moments of fate, it was to me she turned, for 
some reason deciding to toss that casual bombshell my way.  With a little 
snort, she confided that, of course, Jackie never bothered with a bra.  
Then my informant leaned forward, lowering her voice, bringing her lips 
close to my ear for a confidential whisper that took in just the two of us:


	"I tell you what I think." (and here she paused).  "I think the girl 
doesn't even own a pair of panties!"


That one sentence delivered in that crowded bar, so casually, so 
offhandedly, with the superior smirk of the slightly drunk, cut through me 
like a hot knife, leaving my insides soft and mushy.  My cock stirred with 
an abrupt surge of power, stiffening instantly to stand in full arousal.  
As I sat in that bar with my hardened penis hopelessly tangled in my 
briefs, I let my mind slowly savor the erotic image of our cute 
receptionist, with her skirt rucked up to her waist so that she sat behind 
her desk with bare bottom planted on the smooth cool leather of her office 
chair.  From that moment I was captivated; you might even say 'obsessed'.  
It was the one thought that resonated through me: our hot little blond 
receptionist, her hard young body completely, totally naked, and oooh so 
accessible under nothing but that thin body-clinging dress!

The End



Copyright 2004, Don Winslow
Comments: dwin2201@yahoo.com
<1st attachment end>


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