Screw Her – Part 1

By | August 15, 2010

Stocking up SkirtIt was six in the evening and everyone else was clocking off. The gaffer had told her to wait in the office while I finished refitting the suspension arm to her car.  He appeared under the vehicle lift as I was tapping the retaining bolts through the bushes.

“I’ve put her in the office and the gates are shut. I have to get off.” He raised his hand to his face and made the internationally recognised sign for drinking a cold beer. It was Friday night after all. He dropped a bunch of keys into my top pocket. “Fill in the job cards and I’ll invoice her tomorrow. See ya.”

I told him to have fun and continued with the job. Another bolt and two nuts to tighten before I was finished. On the last nut the socket rolled off the slightly rounded nut and I flew forward punching the chassis with my fist. “Fucking bastard!” I yelled and bent down to pick up the wrench. I was checking the nuts for tightness when a female voice asked “Are you OK.”

I could see her from her stomach down. Business skirt suit and court shoes all in dark blue, skirt finishing just below the knee and black stockings. I told myself they were stockings not tights …

“I’m fine.  Just slipped. There you are, all done.” I bent down and stepped out from under the vehicle lift.

“That doesn’t look alright.” She said nodding at my right hand.

Blood was dripping from my knuckles, and I realised my hand was numb from the force of the impact with the chassis.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” She asked

“In the office. Are you a nurse?”

“I can be if you want to me be.” Her blue green eyes sparkled and she smiled. “Just a first-aider.”

I insisted on washing off the worst of the filth from my hands with Swarfega before she cleaned out the wound and dressed it. She was obviously wearing her office suit and I didn’t want her to dirty it on my account. I sat next to the sink, holding my now stinging knuckles pressing a wad of bandages onto them to close the torn skin.

“Leave it a few minutes. I’ll dress it properly when it slows down. You’ve torn open three knuckles.”

She made us a coffee and I studied her ass and hips as she moved around the office. Definitely stockings I though, well it made me happy to imagine stockings under that sexy skirt.

“Stand up I’ll take your overalls off.” She said, setting the coffee down next to me on the drainer. I stood and she unfastened the press studs. I had to release the pressure on my torn hand to slip out of the sleeves and found the bleeding had stopped. I sat down again and she dropped to her knees to unfasten my boots, I lifted my feet when she had so she could remove the overalls and slipped my feet back into my footwear.

She pulled up a chair and we drank our coffee together. She worked for the local estate agents, hence the uniform, dark blue suit and light blue blouse. She kept leaning forward and each time I took the opportunity to look down the front of her blouse. She had small breasts so the view wasn’t as impressive as I had hoped. I was young and not too sophisticated.

I was so busy trying to hold a polite conversation with her and ogling her tits that it was a while before I noticed that she had spotted my bulging crotch. I suddenly stopped talking.

“What are you thinking?” She asked.

“I was hoping you were wearing stockings.” I said, blurting it out without thinking.

“You’re disgusting!” She got up and I panicked, knowing I had over stepped the mark.

“I’m sorry …” I began.

“Don’t be.” She said stepping towards me. “I like it. Tell me what else you were thinking.”

“I wondered if your knickers matched your black bra. And I wanted you to show them to me …”

Her hands were at her sides, pulling up her skirt until the flesh at the top of her thighs was revealed. She was wearing stockings, hold-ups, and a pair of lacy black panties. “Does that answer your question?” She smiled and I could see her chest heaving. “Oh, you are in a state!” she observed. “Stand Up.”

I did as she told me, wondering what she had in mind. She unzipped my jeans and reached inside, struggling to release the hard cock inside, already straining at the denim. She picked up a bar of soap and lathered up her hands before slowly washing my penis in long deliberate strokes. She reached for a towel and wetting one end used the damp fabric to remove the soap before using the dry end to remove the water.

“That’s better, nice and clean.” As she said the words I could feel her working on my shaft again. My balls were tight and I was unusually aware of their weight and size. I tried to act cool and hold back but she was determined, staring at my face to watch which action worked best, changing her grip, speed and the way in which her thumb rubbed my frenulum. I dribbled precum onto her fingers in a constant stream.

My eyes close involuntarily and I groaned low and long. “Ah, that’s it.” She said triumphantly feeling my release begin, the contractions in my groin, the rush along my cock. “Yessss” she hissed with satisfaction.

I opened my eyes and looked down at her hand, now covered in my cum. Her suit too had not escaped the eruption with two white blobs clinging to the dark material.

“I think we both need a shower. It’s been a long day.” She sighed. “My place?”