More Stories to Make You Blush Read Free

imagine its wonderful, subtle harmony with the color of her skin. She rubbed it over her generous breasts then wrapped it around her waist, letting the delicate fabric tickle her round buttocks.
    Suddenly, she seized one end of the camisole and slid the other between her legs. Before my astonished eyes she started grinding her pelvis with undulating movements. She watched herself closely in the mirror, sliding the silky cloth back and forth over her pussy. At last her entire body collapsed up against the mirror, the magnificent breasts crushing against the screen. I could almost feel her hot breath fogging the glass, feel her breath on my cock, which was stiff and hurting with desire. I was dying to free it from my pants and milk it hard and fast—but what if someone came in? To make things worse, the beautiful stranger kept stroking herself with the cloth, faster and faster. I rubbed at my crotch through the thick fabric of my pants. I wasn’t used to this kind of lone pleasure— especially not at work!—and was having trouble relaxing and letting go. Wasn’t I the guy who everyone trusted to respect the anonymity and privacy of women? I was none too pleased with myself. But in spite of everything my hard on was becoming a monster. “My” customer spread her legs slightly, put her finger right in the middle, and started moving it with a steady rotation. After only a few moments she closed her eyes and her entire body arched with pleasure. My hand between my legs, I was just about to undo my zipper when the office door swung open; it was one of my colleagues wanting to know if I’d had lunch. Red with shame, I leapt to my feet to hide my customer from the intruder. I mumbled that I’d be down in ten minutes, and told him to wait if he wanted. My excitement wilted to nothing. What a close call!
    That evening I decided to convince Margaret to come to bed early. I said I was tired and needed to feel her close, but told her she could read if she wanted. She got into bed, propping up the pillows, and gave me a kiss on the forehead before turning to her book. At least she wasn’t wearing that damn cream on her face. I cuddled up against her and stroked her soft cheek lovingly, but she just smiled and kept reading. Why couldn’t I make her see what I really needed?
    * * *
    Saturday, October 15, I was glad to be working only until one o’clock . I was tired and irritable after a sleepless night and was in no mood to kid around with my co-workers. I went straight to my office, avoiding the cafeteria. I thought I was home free until I saw Nicole coming down the hall with such a bright smile and shrill, cheerful voice that I felt a terrible headache coming on.
    â€œHi, Paul! Having a bad day?”
    â€œI’m fine!” I snapped, without meaning to. “Hey, take it easy. You seem a bit frustrated.” She was nobody’s fool, that Nicole.
    â€œNo, just a little tired.”
    I was dying to ask her about “my” customer. Did she know her? What was she like? What kind of voice did she have? Was she going to come today? What was her name? But I managed to hold myself back, and escaped into my office with a thermos of strong black coffee for company.
    The hours passed and she didn’t appear. I was very disappointed, but at the same time relieved. I realized this woman had become an obsession. I thought about her the way you think about a lover—longing after her, trying to be satisfied with what little she wants to give you, craving a kiss, even a smile. I felt totally ridiculous. Totally miserable. My shift ended, and she hadn’t even bothered to stop by.
    Sunday, October 16 was a day of complete mediocrity. I spent the day in an almost feverish state. All I could think about was her—daydreaming about that splendid body, her hands stroking her pale skin, silky hair tumbling down over her shoulders. I missed her. I felt like an addict in withdrawal