Computer Blue

Computer Blue.

(by Stephanie)

We're not allowed do it where I work. 

That is, we're not allowed to use our office computers for personal purposes. But we all do it. Twitter, Facebook and in my case, Lush Stories. Don't get me wrong, I'm a PA for the boss of a TV production company and it's a laid back place, but there are rules. Liam Callan is a decent boss, an ex-director who produces adverts and movies now. He chased the money, and caught it. 

And he's kind of cute, in that mad, bad way that the Irish often are. And probably dangerous to know..... But a girl can dream.

I knew he liked me. He flirted with everyone but with me it was special, or I thought it was.

“Nice shoes today, Connie,” he'd observe, “Choo's?”

“Marks and Spencer,” I'd truthfully reply and watch him try not to grin as he turned away. Smart Bastard.

Liam was in meetings all morning and I had just a little typing to do for him before close of business. By lunchtime I had all the correspondence on the desktop and was waiting for his final proof before printing the hard copies for his signature. With time on my hands, I checked out my Lush profile.

Oooooh! Some sexy new photos and a message or three! Inevitably aroused, I crossed and re-crossed my stockinged legs, my pussy tingling ever so slightly. Time for a distraction. Time to sneak out for a quick Starbucks.

I wasn't longer then 15 minutes but as I arrived back at my desk I noticed my co-workers avoiding my eyes. I also noticed Liam's office door was wide open, the blinds in his windows drawn down. As I sat at my desk to print his letters I saw that the screen was displaying my Lush profile. The one with my photos. The one with THOSE photos. The ones only my friends can view.

Oh, shit.

“CONNIE! Get in here,” shouted my boss. I scrambled off my seat and entered his office. He was sat behind his massive desk.

“Close the door,” he commanded.

I did, and I attempted to take the seat in front of the desk.

“I didn't tell you could sit,” he growled.

So I stood in front of the desk, like a girl summoned to the headmaster.

“I went to check on the Paramount letters but you weren't there,” he snarled, dark eyes blazing at me. “So I clicked on your machine to find them, and do you know what I found?”

“Look, Liam, I can explain,” I offered.

“I'm Mr. Fucking Callan to you today, Miss,” he whispered. And above all else, he sounded more hurt then angry.

“The 1940s cartoons are cute, the picture of you in the dress is frankly beautiful, but JESUS Connie, the private photos of you with your tits out, the ones of you in the little skirt wearing no knickers, the ones of you with your HANDS down your knickers..... ANYONE could see those. Jesus, Connie, I thought you were, I thought we could be... Oh, Connie. I never thought you were that kind of girl,” and his voice broke as he sobbed, he actually sobbed.

At his obvious upset, this powerful guy I'd fancied for ages, I felt myself begin to tear up in shame.

“It's just a game, Li..... Mr. Callan, it's just a bit of fun. It's a tiny part of who I am. It's not all I am... I'm still me. I'm still your me....”

“You don't understand do you?” he questioned, eyes glistening, his hair falling over his face as he looked down, unable even to bring himself to look at me.

“THAT'S how I've imagined you for months! I see you every fucking day, I think about you every fucking night and now I find out that you can be that slut for anyone but me.... Anyone except me.”

“I'm NOT a slut, Liam,” I rankled. “I have a little fun on the Web. It's a GAME! It's just a game, Liam, and I do it because I'm lonely and bored. I go home alone, Liam, this makes me feel less alone.... And if I've hurt you I'm sorry. I didn't mean for you to see that. It's not who I totally am...”

And now he looked up at me, gazing into my eyes, me still standing like a guilty schoolgirl before his desk.

“What if it was who I wanted you to be?” he asked with a raised eyebrow, his natural self-confidence returning.

“You know how I feel about you, you Irish idiot,” I softly said, “but you're my boss! And I KNOW you like me but you never once made a move. You never made a single move, Liam...”

“Well I'm fucking making one NOW!” He shouted.

Leaping from his chair his hands swept the big desk clean of papers, pens, his stupid executive toys.... Even his Mac laptop hit the floor with a crash. (He was going to need to replace that...)

“Get on the desk Connie and lift your skirt. NOW!”

I did as he told me.

As I lay on the massive desk I felt his head bury himself beneath my short skirt. I could feel his stubble rasp against the lace at the top of my stockings. He pushed his face into me and sucked at the centre of my panties. I was wet now, wet as winter. But hot as the highest summer.

I abandoned myself to my pleasure as he licked me through the cotton.. His moans turned me on even more. Almost unconsciously I unbuttoned my shirt for him and pulled my bra above my breasts, freeing myself for him. His hands began to knead and tease my heaving breasts. And I realised I was about to come. And then, panting, moaning, I did.

When he knew he had made me orgasm it seemed to cause a change in him.

He pulled my knickers and tights down to my knees and ordered me to kneel up on the desk, my naked ass now presented for his pleasure. I heard the sound of his zipper as he dropped his pants and stood now by the side of the desk, his strong hands supporting my legs, which were now dangling off the bloody table. I felt like an abused whore, a call girl, a fuck toy.

It felt wonderful.

I felt him position a deliciously fat cock at my slit. I reached around to guide him into me. He pulled my knickers and tights down further to enable me to spread myself for him, (and I greedily did) and then, and THEN, he laughed!

“These are the fucking pink knickers you had your hands in in that photo, aren't they?”

I just moaned.

“Well you have me in you now,” he whispered into my ear as he pushed into my pussy from behind me. Hard and fast and deep and powerful. And beautiful. And big.

He lasted all of three minutes. In that time I came twice again.

Lying across me, still spreadeagled on his desk he kissed the back of my neck.

“I'm normally a bit better then that,” he sighed softly. “But I've been dreaming of this for a very long time. It'll get better.”

In the afterglow, we dressed and straightned ourselves up. We didn't even talk. When we were presentable again he produced a wallet from his pants and counted out 1500 pounds which he pushed into my hand.

I was so hurt I couldn't even cry. Instead I sceamed.

“I'm NOT a fucking WHORE, Liam Callan!!!!”

“I know you're not, Connie,” he smiled, stroking my hair, “but if I'm going to buy you dinner after work you'll probably need to buy some new clothes. Afternoon off. My treat. And buy a toothbrush too. I'm really looking forward to showing you where I live. You'll like it. You'll like living there...”

This time when I passed through the office after grabbing my bag EVERYONE stared at me. I simply smiled back.