Chapter 10

Next day I went to work at the bank in the city centre. This was another source of some of my sexual exploits. I've come to see this new sexual revolution of mine rather like discovering the joy of books and being let loose in a library. The branch I work in three days a week, is a small affair with about eight staff including me. I'm the oldest member of staff there. The branch manager is Mr. Brian Dodd, sometimes referred to unkindly, Mr. Dodd as brain dead or Ken. Mr. Dodd is just under forty and seems too preoccupied with my breasts. He's one of those blokes who talk to your chest, not so surprising, as lately I have been shamelessly displaying a lot of cleavage. He's married to a, dowdy flat chested woman called Daphne, which might explain his fascination with my boobs.

Mr. Dodd and I are usually the last ones out due to our seniority, and some evenings he comes in to my office for a so-called daily run down, where we discuss the day's business. He often stands behind me looking over my shoulder at some paper work, his hand on my shoulder feeling my bra strap through my blouse. Of course I know he's just peering down at my tits. I don't mind, in fact I'm flattered that men, and women like my body so much.

One such evening, a little while ago, I was feeling rather randy having only masturbated once that day and was in need of some relief, when I decided to call his bluff. Last thing that evening, I went into his office on the pretext of getting his signature on a mortgage proposal. He signed it and as I turned to leave I pretended to stub my toe on his deskleg. With my face contorted in pain I kicked my shoe off and asked him to examine my foot. I quickly placed my foot on his thigh. My skirt was short enough for him to seem stockings and suspenders. I pressed my foot into his leg and asked him to massage it for me. He looked a little embarrassed, but with the odd glance up my skirt he did it. After a while I said,

"It's no use Mr. Dodd, the pain's moved up the inside of my thigh now, would you rub it for me?" Without waiting for an answer I stood closely beside him and hoisted my skirt up a little. His hand trembled slightly as it moved up inside my skirt where he began to massage my inner thigh. I said,

"No it's higher than that Mr. Dodd"

He obediently moved his hand up higher until it brushed against the gusset of my knickers. For some tome now I've been wearing super absorbent panty liners to soak up the constant flow of juice from my fanny, I had only changed it once today and it needed changing again, it was soaked. I said,

"Rub it harder Mr. Dodd maybe the pain will go away." I bent right over so my tits were inches from his flushed face, and noticed with some pleasure that there was a small bulge in his crotch.

"Oh," I said coyly, "what's that lump in your trousers." I smiled broadly at him, he continued to rub my gusset, and which was quite nice, and I grabbed the bulge, squeezing it gently through his flies. He groaned quietly as I rubbed his erection, then groaned again as I unzipped him and pulled out his stiff cock.

What a disappointment it was. It was tiny, barely six inches long and very thin. Never mind about being called brain dead. I think "pencil dick" would have suited more. I was too far-gone now to stop; I had to go through with it. So I said,