Wandering Eyes

Missy swept quickly, if a bit clumsily, into her office--all the while tugging furiously at the bottom of her sweater. Half way to her desk it finally relinquished its insistence at keeping the socially unacceptable parts of her breasts from public view. She was late as usual but at least she looked presentable.

"Oooh, you scared me!" she exclaimed upon noticing the new girl sitting across from the little desk Missy used mostly for adjusting her makeup.

Missy saw that she had been crying.

"Ah, so, you wanna talk?" Missy asked as she slid herself into her seat slowly, letting the course material stroke the seams of her nylons and tug at the little straps that held them up before she settled back into the seat, but not without a little whimper of contentment.

"It's John. He's got wandering eyes."

"The hubby? They all have. Tell me something I don't know," said the suddenly tough-sounding Missy, who crossed her legs and started picking at a bit of imaginary lint from a spot on her sweater so dangerously close to her left nipple that she almost enjoyed it more than she had intended. It wasn't often she got to play the big shot in her office and she was enjoying it, even though she had no other role models for the task than the hard boiled detectives that flashed across her black and white television after she was done with her vibrator, say around midnight.

Lacy rammed herself back into her seat. "I thought you'd be of some help!" she exclaimed, stunned enough to stop sobbing for a moment.

Missy wasn't paying much attention. She seemed mesmerized by Lacy's legs, which were trying to cross themselves but stopped and reversed direction with Missy's acute stare. Those legs were impossibly long, the thighs gracefully slender. Lacy was a tall drink of water whose height projected power...but then looks were deceiving. Actually, she was soft as a dying daisy. Except for those massive nipples projecting from the tiny hillocks of her miniature breasts.

"I can be of some help. But you'll probably have to see things differently than you do."

"I'm at my wit's end. I'll do anything."

At hearing this, Missy's eyes lit up like someone had lit a firecracker under the thong that had squeezed itself delightfully into the crack of her moist bottom. She had no idea that wits had ends.

"Then you won't mind my taking any liberty I see as befitting the situation," Missy said, leaning foreward to take one of Lacy's big, suckable nipples between her thumb and forefinger. Power was way cool, she thought as she rotated the tubular knob of it through a whole twist of her wrist. But where were those words coming from she wondered? She seemed to have started talking like her boss...

Lacy seemed to take all this in stride, appearing for the moment all prim and proper, hands in her lap, sitting nicely upright for the onslaught of Missy's digits as if she were posing for a school picture of the last virgin on earth getting her nipples ravaged.

Missy leaned back in her chair, almost forgetting to release the nipple until Lacy winced noticeably. "Shall we do lunch with the bastard?"

"Lunch? Us? Together?" asked Lacy, who seemed to run out of verbs.

"Yuppers. See, the thing is, you gotta exploit this man's weakness. You gotta focus those wandering eyes on what's important to him at the moment. and then, when he least expects it, ya go for the groin. I'm saying..." Missy leaned closer to the fragrant Lacy, "You let 'em look at what they want till they're hard as pipe and then you turn their attention to your pussy and let 'em go at it. I'll show you what I mean at lunch."

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John wasn't all that bad looking, Missy observed. At least the parts of him managing to stick out from above the oversized menu seemed nice. Lacy introduced them, but John didn't rise, he just sat there staring at Missy's cleavage. Missy was proud, although sometimes she thought that she shouldn't be...

"See what I mean, he's totally focused on your breasts," spat the astute Lacy with a smirk.

Missy thrust out her chest. "So?"

Then she turned, "Like 'em, Johnny?"

John looked quizzically at his wife, who seemed to be trying to shrink herself under the table.

"Johnny, you have to say something smart and sexy now, come on!" said Missy, her hands gently cupping the undersides of her jiggling boobs like a mother trying to interest her crying child in a squeeze toy.

"I love your tits," he said, then looked over to see his wife hiding behind the wine list.

"And you'd like to slide your rock-hard ol' cock between them, wouldn't you?"

Johnny's mouth snapped open quick as a switchblade. It was a good thing the waitress arrived with bread at that moment or he wouldn't have thought to breath.

After the button-nosed and buxom waitress had taken the drink orders (which were indeed as considerable as her cleavage) Missy reminded Lacy of her duty to go with the sexual flow.

"Lacy, sit up there like a woman proud of herself! Now's the time to see if it's working. Slide a hand over to Johnny-boy's crotch and tell me how hard he is," demanded Missy in a hissing whisper.

Lacy wrenched herself up and reached tentatively into Johnny's lap. She jumped as if she'd encountered a rattler. "Gawd, he's hard. I mean really hard. How'd you do that?" she inquired of Missy as if she had used something like eye of Newt to bewitch the man's cockhood into an unheard-of stiffness.

"Never mind. Now, John-boy, I want you to focus on that soft butter in the dish over there and imagine Lacy warming it in her hands before slathering it all over your cute cock." Missy stared into John's eyes while she released a blouse button, allowing him to stare at even more cleavage. "Imagine what it would feel like, the heat of your honey's hand and the cool yellow of the butter getting all squished around those sensitive cock-nerves. When she's finished, she takes hold of that greased up ol' cock and leads it over to me, placing it right HERE between my waiting boobies--Ohhh! I had to shiver a little at that one myself! And right in front of all these people, who watch quite contentedly as you'd expect them to if they weren't all programmed to reject the sexy things life deals out unexpectedly sometimes, you'd start slowly thrusting that cock of yours up and down while I clamp my tits around it firmly so I can feel that cock head burrowing through my tit flesh and coming out to almost hit its big, swollen head on my chin, and so the next time I try to get it my lips around it but it just grazes them wetly and I try to tickle the underside of your ball sack to help things along so that you can just come and come and the pearly strings of your come shoot against my chin again and again so hard it almost stings. And the people in the restaurant applaud before going back to their souffles but you know they're all going to go home and get some tonight after seeing that kinda thing, eh?"

Missy wrenched her eyes away from Johnny's vacant stare to look over at Lacy, whose left arm still seemed to be angled toward John's crotch. A tiny bit of spittle was seeping from the corner of her wet lips and she didn't seem to want to take her fingers away from what they were doing to dab at it. That sent the curious Missy to leaning toward her where she noticed the activities of Lacy's "free" hand, which seemed to be dabbling in her own crotch. She'd gotten her skirt quite high on those delicious thighs and was using the fluttering tips of her fingers to graze her panty-crotch so that it shimmered in silky waves over her swollen clitty.

The waitress arrived at just that moment--and in fine fettle. "Oh, did you spill something?" she asked John cheerily, bending over to peer at the stain on his trousers. "Oh, oh, MY, yes," she said as the smell of sex seemed to overcome her good cheer and send her into a blizzard of uncertainty. "Will you be having anything else?" she asked absentmindedly.

"Well, I wish I was having what she'll be having in the car," said Missy as she motioned for them to get going. "I hope you understand that I've had to use this opportunity in your restaurant to "fix" these folks so that they can fuck like bunnies this afternoon and forever after," her eyes glanced upward a bit quizically, "I hope he can come more than once in an afternoon...but that aside, what do I owe you?"

The waitress looked at Missy as if she were the last cherry on top of a mound of vanilla ice cream dripping with hot fudge, meaning hungrily if you catch my drift. "Why oh why do I have this effect on people?" Missy asked herself as she slowly let her legs fall apart. A little shiver went down her spine as the waitress' eyes clamped themselves to the tattered stocking-tops that begged for attention before giving way to the porcelain white skin of Missy's thighs. If only she'd have remembered to write her phone number there...

"I wish I could stay and chat and maybe lick you dry, but I gotta get back to work. Let's both have a rub later. Maybe twoish. I'll think of you and you think of me. Ok?"

The waitress just stared as Missy grabbed her purse and swung her wide hips free of the chair. "Toodles," she waved.

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It wasn't until 1:45 when Lacy burst through Missy's office door. She seemed a bit bedraggled.

"Jeez, what an hour of fucking!"

"I know. I see it running down your thigh," said Missy longingly.

Lacy wasn't about to be silenced by a teensy little river of come running past her knees. "First he took me out to the car. Nobody was really around, so he just lifted my skirt, bent me over the trunk and slid it right in there. I mean, it didn't take any of that foreplay or anything; I was like a swamp in there. Honestly, the little birds twittering away were drowned out by the sound of his cock sloshing inside my gapping cunt. I've never had reason to say the words "gaping cunt" before. That's funny, huh? Anyway its not long before he's driving into me like a pile driver and then he spurts. It takes like forever. People are coming out of the restaurant but he can't help it. I could feel it dripping from my thighs. It was kind of cool.

Then we get in the car and he announces he wants to eat his come right out of me. He's never done that before. I mean, here he is with his eyes begging me to say yes. What could I do? So I tell him he'd better eat me until he can get hard again or I won't let him have any more "lunches" with my sexy friend Missy. He dives in there, one hand on his cock flailing away while his tongue is going lickety split on my clit. Then he starts sucking the goop from my sloppy pussy in between flicking my clit with his tongue. Holy Cow! I'm soon coming like you wouldn't believe.

But he still can't get it quite hard enough. So I tell him you're probably at your desk with four fingers in your pussy thinking about his cock and he leans back, closes his eyes, and it starts to sort of "fill out" and pretty soon it's all fiery red and hard as a rock. I couldn't believe I was saying those things, but you were right, Missy, I just channeled his sexual energy into me and he had me sit right down on it right there in the parking lot like I was sitting on daddy's lap learning to drive, holding that big, ol' wheel for support while I rammed myself down on his worn out but still hard cock. Oh, Missy! I wish I had known what I was missing by being mad at his lascivious stares instead of using them to get myself off and off some more!"

Missy had been listening, of course, not only to Lacy's sexy story but to the ticking of the clock on the wall. It was 2, and Missy's hand was strumming across her naked cunt wildly, right there in front of her underling Lacy. And she couldn't get the image of poor, worn out Johnnycakes out of her mind so he sort of blended in with the waitress in Missy's sex-soaked mind, their tongues struggling to reach Missy's big, swollen clit. What a day.