Preparing for the weekend.
I smiled at her, as you would at a colleague, and she lisped to me, "Oh look, I'm out of punch again. If I gave you my glass, would you give me one?" I could scarcely believe my ears! Old Carol really was flirting with me. I walked over to the punch bowl shaking my head in bewilderment. Oh well, she was the only woman at the party who was trying to chat me up, it was all just a meaningless bit of fun -- why not? She'd be embarrassed as hell in the morning, if she remembered, but that was her problem. So I walked back with punch slopping over the top of her glass and, handing it to her, asked her if I got to give her one now. She edged slightly closer to me, her tits actually brushing against my chest, and murmured "I should be so lucky."
Still hardly believing I was having this conversation I asked her with a wink if she was generally a lucky person. She smiled blearily at me and said she hoped she would be tonight. Laughing I said her number might come up in the raffle that was to be drawn later. Carol's slightly unfocussed eyes locked on mine and she whispered "I'm hoping both our numbers are about to come up." Then I felt her hand rub very deliberately across the crotch of my trousers. I wasn't sure which surprised me more -- that touch, or the way I felt my cock immediately leap to attention and strain against my fly! Carol noticed too and, her eyes still boring into mine, she brushed her hand even more firmly across my dick. "If you've got a nice big Christmas surprise for me, Nicky, we could both end up knicker-less before the night's out."
At the time I completely failed to register the crude pun on my name. My eyes wildly circled the room as I prayed that, if there really was a god, he hadn't let anyone who knew me see what was happening. Amazingly everyone seemed to be looking the other way. We were near the door out of the room and, desperate not to be noticed apparently trying to pull one of the office frumps, I hustled Carol through it. In the relative quiet of the corridor she threw her arms around my neck, pulled my face down towards hers and locked her thin lips to mine, thrusting her tongue into my mouth. I felt the last dregs of her drink trickle down my neck from the empty glass still in her hand, and my prick become so stiff it felt as if it would burst my zip! A second later her hand was on the front of my trousers again, her fingers wrapped around the outline of my painful erection. I felt my face flushing and my heart thumping. I began to snog her back, stroking her tongue with mine, as it finally sunk into my punch-addled brain that, if I wanted to, I really was going to be screwing this plain woman about the same age as my mother around 30 seconds from now. I edged a hand down the back of her skirt, feeling the naked flesh of her bum, and found myself thinking "Well, at the end of the day a cunt's a cunt, whoever's it is."
I was vaguely aware that she was edging us along the wall. She reached behind me and we almost fell into the unlit room the door of which she had just opened. I found my backside resting on a table and, as Carol switched the light on and locked the door, I realised it was her stationery store. There was barely enough room for the table, a single chair, shelves of paper, files and envelopes, and the two of us. I expected Carol to start kissing me again, but she bobbed down in front of me and I felt her tearing at my belt and fly. Then she dragged my trousers and Y-fronts down to my ankles and she was on me.
Her lips closed over my knob and she started pumping her mouth slowly, sensuously up and down along its length.