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It Could Have Been Me
By
ColandCarol

It Could Have Been Me

A colleague shows him what he should have been doing with her all along
About a week ago our small sales team gathered to say goodbye to Debbie who had been our administrator for two years. She was leaving to get married and, as the company policy was that partners should not work together in the same department, when she returned she would be elsewhere. Debbie had been a very efficient worker although her flirtatious nature and provocative dress had perhaps made the rest of us less so!

As the four others in the sales force were mostly out on the road, I guess that applied more to me than most. Short skirts, figure hugging tops and low cut necklines were all very distracting, let alone her fondness of close bodily contact. A hand on my arm, sometimes my leg, brushing against me with her breast or a massage of my neck if she thought I looked stressed did nothing for concentration! However, knowing the company took a very dim view of what was termed 'fraternisation at work' I declined to combine work and play. Debbie teased me about this and after a while it became a game between us as to how far she would go. Although everyone was on first name terms Debbie often used to call me "Mr Pearce" and I called her "Miss Parker" in a way that emphasised the hierarchical nature of our relationship in a playful sort of way. Debbie took liberties with all the guys, but I knew with some satisfaction that most of this behaviour was reserved for me.

We were sad to see her go and gave her a good send off, so I was taken aback when she walked into the office late on the Friday before 'The Big Day'. It was just gone 4.30pm when the new administrator had left and none of the salespeople would be back in.

"What's this?" I asked, "I thought you would be up to your eyes in the preparations."

"You know me, everything is well in hand, and I particularly wanted to see you – I've got a surprise for you."

"Well there is no need..."

"No, I want to, but I need just to set up in your office a moment." She walked to the door, "No peeking until I say."

"Okay."

Debbie walked through and shut the door behind her. She was dressed in ordinary clothes and carried just her handbag so I was intrigued as to what the surprise might be, but I didn't spoil it by looking.

After a while Debbie came out, "Now, so as to have maximum impact, I want you to put this on." She said handing me a strip of cloth. She clearly wanted me to put it on as a blindfold, so I did as I was bid. Then she led me by the hand into my office and sat me down on my chair – it felt familiar even though it was on the wrong side of the desk.

"Now put your hands on the arm rests." she instructed.

Although I was not sure what this was for I again complied. With a flurry of movement what I later realised where Velcro bands were strapped around my wrists. Instinctively I struggled to get free, but as I didn't want to embarrass Debbie by spoiling her surprise I didn't go as far as breaking whatever was holding me. This gave her time to also tie my arms to the back of the chair. Whatever she was doing she was doing in earnest because not matter how I now strained movement was so restricted I could not get the ties to budge.

"Stop struggling, Mr Pearce, it will be alright." she said mockingly.

"What is this about Debbie?" I demanded.

"You will find out."

With that she came behind me and took the blindfold from my eyes. When she came into view I expected to see her in something sexy or even naked (my imagination had been running fast without physical sight) but she was in the same skirt and blouse she had come in wearing and had been her regular working clothes before.

Debbie came and sat on the desk in front of me, crossed her legs and then sat forward allowing her blouse to open up and afford a very pleasant view of her breasts. Visions of all the previous occasions I had gazed on her rather fine body flooded back.

"For two years I have been doing this kind of thing, letting you look up my skirt or down my top, or pressing my breasts against you, but not once have you taken advantage... You have always been very proper towards me in this office, but I would have liked it if once, only once you had said to hell with the rules and did something more than look. You could have ripped my clothes off and taken me on this desk and I would have thanked you profusely, but no, you were the charming boss and I was just a secretary."

"That is hardly true - well it is true that..."

"Shhh! I'm boss now. Keep quite while I give you a taste of what you have been missing. You have failed to take your opportunity. I'm not coming back again so this is the last sight you will have of me here".

I swallowed dryly. She got down from the desk and smoothed her skirt with her hands and then stroked her thighs. "You like short skirts, don't you, Mr Pearce? I know you like to see my legs."

Slowly she inched the skirt higher so I could see more of them.

"You've seen these before." she said as she raised the hem to her stocking tops.

Indeed I had, several times, when she bent over to file papers in the bottom draw of the cabinet. If someone else was about she knelt to the task, if not she bent from the waist even allowing her thighs to be visible above her stockings. Once I berated her for wearing such short skirts to the office and was pleased to see that the next day she had a dress on of a more modest length, only to find that when she sat at her desk a split in its side went almost as far as her hip and fell open to reveal not only a stocking top but the suspender holding it up.

Still she raised the skirt until the white of her panties showed at the meeting of her legs. "You've seen these too."

Those short skirts had done little to hide her underwear when she had sat opposite me taking notes, especially when she parted her legs slightly to pick something from the floor. Occasionally such movement did not reveal white knickers, or knickers of any other colour, but that she had none on at all.

"But you never did anything more than look, did you? I wanted you to lift my skirt higher, Mr Pearce, or to put you hands up it, but you would not be persuaded. You could have had all this in your hands!"

Debbie swiftly turned and pulled what little was left of the material around her waste to uncover, not a panty clad rear but a bare bottom with the thin strip of a thong between her buttocks.

She groped her bottom, squeezing the cheeks. "Didn't you ever want to do this to me, Mr Peace?" She bent over my desk, kept kneading her fleshy buttocks and then smacked her buttocks.

"You could have spanked me when I had got something wrong; you could have put me over your knees..." With that she took a ruler from the desk and gave herself three brusque slaps with it "... and given me six of the best". The other three she administered by bringing the ruler up between her legs and smartly thwacking herself. Light red blushes appeared on her rear.

Standing up, Debbie deftly removed her skirt and laid it behind her. She went over to the water cooler and poured herself a cup. Sitting on the desk again she sipped some of the water and then held it over herself. Slowly and deliberately she tipped some out; dark fingers made the material of her blouse cling to her breast.

She drew a sharp intake of breath as the cold liquid wet her skin. "Your hands could have done this," she told me, "they could have caressed my body and made my nipples erect."

The nipple of her left breast was indeed standing taught against her translucent clothing, the cold water having puckered the tit and made both her bra and top filmy where it had spread. More water made the whole of the left side of the blouse sheer, then the rest was poured right between her legs so that it had the same effect on her knickers. There, completely visible, were the curls of her pubic hair and the protruding lips of her vulva.

"Oh, I wish you had made me wet." Debbie moaned.

The cup was discarded and she picked up a red board marker instead. With the other hand she tugged at the blouse, wrenching it so hard that the buttons burst or the hole tore. She pulled it over her shoulder along with her bra until the left breast was totally uncovered. Slowly Debbie circled the nipple with the pen leaving a trail of red ink around the areola, then she flicked the erect nub with its tip, up and down and from side to side.

"I imagined you doing this to me with your tongue... making me weak... making me tingle all the way down to my pussy..." Debbie's voice caught as she told me, "Now, it is just me doing lewd things to myself."

She didn't stop there; next she pulled her blouse and bra down to expose her right breast too and I expected her to give it the same treatment. Instead she got a plastic bulldog type clip from my desk tidy and opened it over the newly bared nipple.

"I would have so liked to have felt your lips sucking my tits, Mr Peace, to have felt your mouth clamped to my breasts... now you will just have watch this do what you could have done."

Slowly she lowered the clip and gently closed the jaws on herself. I watched as the nipple was squeezed between them and heard her gasp as it gripped tight. It looked as though it might be painful but she seemed to be in such a state of arousal that after the initial shock her cries were from ecstasy not agony. And she did screech and groan, so that I feared if anyone else was in the building they would have heard. She screwed her eyes up trying to manage the throbbing that came from her breast. She thrashed around my desk, knocking staplers and in-trays to the floor, pinching her other nipple with her fingers and then rubbing her clit through her thong.

Evidently that was not enough and Debbie yanked the material aside to reveal her twat, glistening from the water she had spilt over it, but more so now her own juices. She held open her lips with one hand and frigged with the other.

"Watch me, Mr Pearce... watch what you should have been doing to me" she panted.

She rubbed herself inches in front of my face; I could smell her sex and hear the lascivious sound of her saturated lips slapping against each other and her fingers. She managed to stop before bringing herself to orgasm and tugged he thong over her hips and let them drop to the floor. Then with the clip still attached to her breast she went over to the draws of a cabinet where we keep a few tools. After briefly rummaging she held a screwdriver up like a prize and brought it back with her. She held it in front of her so I clearly saw it and thought of the shockingly beautiful thing she could do with it.

With deliberate and provocative movement she rubbed her open pussy with the handle, up and down the slit. The shaped handle became slick with her juices, then slowly she began to push it inside herself. The bulbous head forced the opening of her vagina apart to except it. Millimetre by millimetre she breach her virgin cunt with the implement.

"It could have been your cock doing this." she breathed.

About a third of the handle was inside her, with the widest part at the entrance of her pussy. To ease it in she twisted the screwdriver. It wasn't completely round so as the handle turned it pulled her flesh round. Her face contorted at the same time. With careful stretching of her pussy walls the thickest part of the shaft disappeared, but still she eased it in. Finally, panting and moaning, the whole handle was inside her, four inches of rigid plastic.

Now, her movements changed, from gradually easing the screwdriver in to sliding it gently backwards and forwards. The in and out action was shallow at first but lengthened as she got used to the movement within her. Eventually, with much groaning she pulled it almost all the way out and pushed it back in again. The inner lips of her cunt stretched out around the handle as it was withdrawn and were dragged back as it returned. The second time she did this the large rounded part got pulled out and behind it a dribble of Debbie's juices seeped out behind it.

More swiftly Debbie plunged the screwdriver in and out of her cunt, each time her red lips encircled the handle, each time she gasped for breath, and each time more fluid oozed from the opening to her fanny, so that there was enough to trickle down her arse.

In sexual ecstasy Debbie drew close to orgasm and thrust the handle further inside. Almost everything on my desk had been flung on the floor as she writhed on it. She reached her climax calling my name and cursing me.

"Oh, Colin... look, look. I'm fucking myself instead of you!"

Her back arched, her hair straggled across her face. The remnants of her clothes twisted about her body as she squirmed in front of me, keeping her legs as wide open as possible. Finally, she collapsed breathing heavily, until she came back to reality.

Slowly she withdrew the screwdriver. As she did watery blood seeped out of her pussy and puddle between her legs on the desk. In this shameless act Debbie had deprived her husband, me, anybody, of the privilege of 'popping her cherry'. She drew herself up to a sitting position and gingerly detached the clip from her breast.

"Could you let me go now, Miss Parker?" I asked pathetically when she looked at me.

"Wait a moment." she replied quietly.

She pulled her bra and blouse up over her shoulders again, although it didn't do much to cover her up as they remained largely see-through from the water she had poured over herself. She began collecting up the rest of her clothing but before she dressed Debbie again blindfolded me. I heard the sounds of her sliding her skirt back on and the zip being pulled up. I wondered how she would get herself to the car in her dishevelled state without someone thinking she had been attacked.

"Well, that was as amazing as I thought it would be... hope it has left you with lots of memorable images! In a moment I'm going to release your arms; you should be able to wriggle free, but I will have long gone by then."

With that I felt the tension go in my bonds and heard the door swiftly open and close behind me.

It took me a while to release myself. I was stunned by what I had witnessed and it had raised a whole load of questions in my mind. Had I really got to know Debbie over the two years she had been in the team? Was the frisky, fun loving woman the same person as had been in front of me a few moments ago? This had been an altogether darker side of her than I had ever seen before, controlling but also exciting, perhaps more 'risky'. I wasn't sure I liked it - although my sweaty palms and rigid cock told me in no uncertain terms I did.

After finally extracting myself I drank two or three cupfuls from the water fountain, I was so parched. All the while I was thinking of the way it had looked on her. And I realised that although Debbie had left she would always be here; I could not have a drink or use the ruler, the pen, clip or screwdriver again without seeing her and what she had done with them; see the stain on my desk and not think what she did on it.

I picked things up, including her discarded thong, and got things straight as best I could in the state I was in and locked up.

That night I could hardly sleep; what did this mean for the future? How would I deal with things when I saw her the next day when what had happened so recently would be the only thing either of us was thinking? Questions, questions... and I had no answers. I tried ringing her but of course only got the voice mail and really did not want to leave a message other people could listen to.

I did not think I could ask anyone else's advice, I would feel foolish and that I was telling a confidence. It was impossible to let anyone what Debbie had done and how it made me feel. There was nothing for it but to just to go to the wedding and hope for the best.

She came up the aisle right on time as I knew she would, but I could not turn and look at her as others did.

Then the question; another one I wasn't sure how I knew how to answer:

"Do you, Colin Malcolm Pearce take Deborah Carol Parker to be your lawful wedded wife?"

My mouth went dry again...
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