The call came in about ten to five-- and it was the kind he couldn't ignore and go home. A vice president, this middle-aged power female with blonde helmet hair and a big square ass who everyone was afraid of, needed tech support-- and he was up next. Why do I have all the luck, he grumbled to himself, as he picked up his briefcase and headed for the elevator, pressing up when everybody else was pressing down.
He reached her office in the executive suite and she was on the phone, barking orders at somebody. She sure looked the type, the build of a battleship armored up in a mannish dark green suit. Despite the nature of the call, he couldn't help notice that she had some cleavage on display, as if anyone would want her oversized udders. Actually he noticed that the helmet hair had gone, replaced by something a little more natural-looking and feminine, a flip do that swayed gently as she paced back and forth on the phone. It was the voice, though, that really took any degree of attractiveness out of the picture. Harsh, no-nonsense, emasculating.
She motioned to him to close the door and sit. He sat.
A moment later she was done. "Thank you for coming up," she said, as if she just barely meant it.
"What's the problem?" he asked.
"I seem to have lost my access code," she said.
"That's easy," he said, breathing a sigh of relief. "Actually, I can reset that from my desk if it ever--"
"I don't think you understand," she said, coming around the desk and sitting on the couch next to him, then reaching to her front and unbuttoning her top button. "I believe I lost it in here," she said, and she grabbed his hand and slid it between her two enormous round breasts, pushing it down past the top of her brassiere into a clammy, sweaty place where the two meaty globes mashed against each other.
He made a quick mental calculation. He liked his job. He hadn't had any since breaking up with Delia two months earlier. What the fuck, he reasoned, and began to rub around in between.
"Let me make some room for you," she said, and in an instant the suitcoat was off, and shortly after she had unsnapped the brassiere and her watermelon-sized tits plopped free and rolled over her pale white belly like two seals set loose on an ice floe. "Check all around," she said, and he lifted them up and down, feeling the warm sweaty circle under each tit, rubbing the rolls of tummy against which they lounged. He did that for a moment, and then she stood up and put the suitcoat back on, loosely, without the brassiere. He was certain he had just been fired.
"No sign of it, I take it," she said.
"Uh, no," he croaked.
"I suspected as much," she said, and grabbed a bottle of lube which had been sitting out in the open on her desk, unnoticed by him until that moment. She turned around, hiked her skirt up, and then pulled her large silk underpants down, revealing two pillow-sized white cheeks, each of them larger than ex-girlfriend Delia's entire ass. She spread her ass wide, revealing a pink, wrinkly asshole, in case he was in doubt about where he was supposed to put the lube. "Maybe you should check in here."
He squirted the lube on his fingers and then gingerly touched one of them to the wrinkly brown eye splayed open before him, unable to believe what he was doing-- yet with no intention of stopping. Her hole seemed to suck his finger inside as her massive butt rode down; she slid back up on it and then down again as he held it in place, and she reached into the wisps of pussy hair that stuck out down below to start rubbing her clitoris. "It may take two or more fingers," she said, as he rubbed one of her giant ass cheeks with his other hand as her butt pistoned up and down, fucking his fingers greedily. He slipped another one in and she let out a little grunt, so he forced the next one in more boldly and got a more deeply satisfied groan in return.
.... There is more of this story ...