Wendy dresses for her new job with the thoughts of teasing her boss

Wendy's first day in her new job and she is excited. "What shall I wear?" she asks herself Something smart and sensible will do. The skirt ending just at the knee and a blouse, certainly nothing provocative, as if she would ever wear anything provocative and to finish some comfortable shoes. She still had to choose what undergarments she would wear. White bra and panties, not too brief, with tights ' her boss might think bare legs were a little too daring on her first day.

Before she put her underwear on she admired herself in the full-length mirror. A breast rounded and firm legs long and tanned. Her hair, loose, falling to her shoulders. She put her underwear on she looks good. Her mother had always told her that good girls wear white underwear.

Just for fun, standing in front of the mirror, she unclips her bra and lets it fall away, breasts swinging gently, still firm and young. Then she slips her panties down around her thighs revealing the neat triangle of dark hair. Yes she looks good. She redressed.

She leaves her flat and walks to the station. A man passes her. She senses his eyes on her breasts and legs. She enjoys the feeling, she feels like a real woman. Sitting on the underground train, reading a book, a young man sits opposite her. She knows his eyes are on her knees, trying to see up her skirt. Dare she? She dares, opening her legs just a little, making it look as if her mind is on her book, knowing he can see the white panties through her tights.

Wendy imagines he is touching her intimately. She feels that little thrill of excitement, again feeling like a real woman, a woman whose body is wanted by a man. She is reading but her mind is elsewhere: on a bed naked with the young man, his lips on her breasts, his hand between her legs, exciting her, his penis hard just for her, her vagina lips kissing his penis before she rides him. She leaves the train: up the stairs, another man behind her, she senses his eyes on the outline of her panties through her skirt. She is thrilled and wishing his hand would follow his eyes.

Wendy arrives at her new office. The pleasant girl at reception shows to her new boss, Mr. Adams. He is in his early forties, very friendly ... handsome. She knows she will be happy there.

At lunch she has coffee with new friends.

"You're working for Mr. Adams. Watch him. Don't get stuck in a lift with him! You know what I mean!"

She dare not show it but she feels that excitement again, it won't go away. Her mind goes back to that summer, that boy, it seems so long ago now. The way his hands trembled as he took her bikini off that first time, how stiff his penis was. How at first she had been embarrassed even to be seen by him in her swimsuit, then how she had secretly enjoyed the filthy poses and things she did for him as he took those photographs. His body on hers, her legs wrapped round his back, how he gripped her as he thrust so fast and hard, then yelling out her name as his whole body shook in his climax. So long ago then...

Mr. Adams comes to see how she is settling in. As he leans over her his eyes are on the neckline of her blouse, on her cleavage, between her breasts nestling in white lace. As he leaves her his hand brushes her thigh. Was it an accident? She bites her lip, the excitement, swelling now towards arousal, is almost too much to bear. And she knows he has sensed it too.

It's the end of the day. As she gets ready to go, there is Mr. Adams

"How was the first day Wendy? Do you fancy a drink? There's a nice little pub just down the road."

The pub is crowded but she is conscious only of him - and of the waves of excitement flooding through her body. He wants her, she knows for certain now. They stand close together as they talk about everything and nothing. Now her thigh is against his Wendy hopes he will he respond...oh please let him she thinks.

She feels his hand on her bottom, his fingertips lightly following the line of the hem of her panties across her buttocks through her skirt. She snuggles closer to him.

"Shall we go back to the office Wendy?"

Minutes later they are in his office. The door locked, knowing they are the only ones in the building. They are kissing, his hand is on her bottom, then lifting her skirt, then her tights are down round her thighs ... then the pleasure, after so long, of his hand under the white cotton and against her soft, moist, throbbing, hungry lips. His fingers on the bare flesh at the very tops of her thighs. She cries out in her pleasure. Her panties are down round her thighs now and she strains to spread her legs against the taut material for his hand to explore her.

He undresses her, slowly, savoring the removal of each garment, fingering her breasts, and kissing her legs and her neat triangle of pubic hair. He touches her where and how he knows it gives a woman pleasure, gently, so gently. As she stands naked for him, her legs wide, his fingertips follow the line of her vagina and right under her, between her buttocks, then his tongue is rustling her pubic hair.

Her nipples tighten under his tongue, the warmth of his hand cupped between her legs. Then he is naked, his penis so upright, so hard - for her. Her hand touches him, lightly over that straining muscle and those swollen globes ... he gasps in his pleasure.

Then she says those words that her mother who brought up the good girl who wears white underwear would never imagine her sweet young daughter even knew:

"I want to lick your cock till you jerk in my mouth," she whispers.

He leans back against his desk, naked, so stiff, so erect, wanting her body. Kisses down his front, his hard muscle slides between her breasts. Her lips and tongue explore his shaft, his scrotum, between his thighs, an anguished cry of pleasure from above her. Then the soft, lust-swollen head of his penis against her tongue ... the feel of the ridge round its base against her lips, back and forth, back and forth, his shaft so hard and smooth against the smooth strokes of her fingers. He thrusts forward toward her, involuntarily as his pleasure rises, trembling, she sees the muscles of his naked thighs tighten, his muscle like iron in her hand ... a cry almost as if of intense pain, his whole body jerks, over and over again ... that salty warm wetness on her tongue.

They dress quickly. His hand caresses her bottom through the tight cotton of her good girl's white panties for one last time. She knows she looks good in her white underwear: her mother would approve.

They go their separate ways, she to her flat to watch television with her plump, lonely, roommate Joan, he to the wife who suspects nothing, to enjoy her body briefly before sleep. "I think you will do very well here, Wendy" his parting words to her. Wendy makes her way home on the underground train with a warm glow in her heart; her first day in her new job has gone well, far better than she expected. She knows she will be happy there. The young man sitting opposite her has his eyes on her knees. She has not bothered to put her tights back on. She dreams, and her legs part, just far enough to show him she is a good girl ...

The end