Chapter 3: AFTER HOURS
Workplace, Lesbian, Insertion
You know you want to be anywhere but here. You know you still have too much cleaning to do before you can leave. You resent your boss for rushing off and giving you the responsibility of locking up. You notice young Georgia, who only got the job at Marty's Restaurant this week, cleans tables as efficiently as possible. She is about your age, but she's at uni. You dropped out of college. You are jealous of her. Her education, yes. Her well-shaped, perky tits, fully.
You are here six nights a week, and it isn't a place to meet guys. Marty runs it well, but tonight, he's left with his friends to keep celebrating an after-licensed hours party elsewhere. You notice your watch: it's already 12.30 a.m. The restaurant is filthy, and you still need to check the toilets. Older partygoers are way worse than twenty-firsts here. The middle-aged clients drink and don't care as grog is splashed and spilled everywhere. Younger gatherings: they have their meal and shoot through and fuck elsewhere.
A fuck, that's what you need. Some pussy action beyond what you can supply yourself. Geez, Georgia is already two tables ahead of you, the efficient, bright bitch. You see her bagging and tying another load of crap off a table: the food scraps, the boutique beer bottle, endless crumpled serviettes and wine-stained menus.
Wow- you pause your mind- where did that thought come from?
Georgia has a nice arse- as she leans over in her standard black short waitress skirt. The shape of her butt and her thighs under her black stockings is all there. Oh my, a girl's body has excited you. Steady yourself.
But you watch her, and that includes her arse. Hell, she will be three tables in front of you in a moment. You are a poor example of senior delegated leadership here. Georgia is leaning across the table for a plate and cutlery. Her white blouse is undone, down three buttons, way past Marty's regulation one. You realise why. She is sweating. She is working hard to finish and go.
You, though, get lost in her cleavage and white bra lace. The white softness of her breast wobble gives you a strange thrill. You realise you haven't had sex with a guy for a few months. You crave touch. Any skin, any hint of usually concealed skin, has you looking and desiring.
It's just Georgia, you try to tell yourself. Nerdy Georgia is behind those glasses.
"Trudy", she calls from across the room, and she must have seen you staring.
Bugger.
She asks, "Do you want me to help with your tables or clean the loos?"
"Sorry," you say, "I'm dragging it a bit. I'm just tired."
Then you lie to her, "Please help me."
You want her closer: you closet lezzy perv; you call yourself, but you like it.
"Sure," and she is next to you.
Now, you take her in as she stacks plates and glasses and clears the same table as you at an accelerated giddy rate. There was no stopping her work focus.
There was no stopping you, either. You are behind her as she wipes the table for the last time. The bitch bringing up the woods shine. Your hands go greedily onto her cute nylon-covered butt cheeks under her short dark skirt.
This is workplace sexual harassment, and you know you will need a new job tomorrow.
Georgia goes: "Ooh," and pushes her bubble butt into your massaging hands.
You are surprised and keep going, rubbing and grabbing her arse.
"I like that," she gets out after a pleasant moan.
That was no problem. You probably lacked the will to stop short of being slapped or cuffed by the law. Her pantyhose dropped around her ankles. She pulled them down there. The little tart is leaning across the table, expecting damn everything.
You realise instantly the seemingly demure Ms Georgia is a perverted hidden slut. We don't know, do we, unless we make the move. Yet if we ask politely, we are usually rejected as timid. We initiate filthy touch, and sometimes, nothing bars our way.
You realise your index finger is already up her tight petite arse under her high-cut, skimpy sexy black undies. Who did she have them on for? Her naughty self or opportunity somewhere? It didn't matter now. The tartlette is moaning and shaking her booty. Your finger is prodding in deep and dirty. She is groaning as you kneel and rim her indented starfish with the tip of your tongue and spit into her gaped pink crevice, and, well, as a bonus, pinch her repeatedly on her arse cheeks.
You yank her super sexy black knickers to the side, twisting them roughly and tightly so they squeeze into the soft skin between her legs. She groans. You twist the fabric tighter.
"Oh, shit more, oh you bitch; stick it deeper…mmm…mmm, "Georgia informs you.
You don't need to hear her. You can feel and see her body reacting to humiliating pleasure. The slattern craves something out of the ordinary here. And different was close at hand. You grab instinctively at an empty two hundred dollar bottle of Dom champagne from the following uncleared table and grossly, blatantly and very crudely stick the neck of the bottle straight into her puckered, tight pink flesh and work it in and out.
She has such a pretty look as you just stare at the combination of her arsehole, taking the green bottleneck and working it in, then slowly out and then faster. The bottle's exterior provides more pleasure than its contents ever could have.
You realise Georgia is having a party with her own body, and there are no restrictions, no curfews on pleasure opened. You and her are here alone, after hours.
Your base urges dominate a lustful desire to push the limits with this hussy. You make her suck the bottle top, which was in her arse seconds ago. The bitch doesn't hesitate.
You proceed to strip her as roughly as you sense she wants it done. Her remaining three blouse buttons pop off and bounce along the floor. You force her gorgeous milk-white breasts over the top of her bra cups. Her nipples are pushed in and out between your fingers. Handfuls of chest flesh are groped sleazily by you. You spit on her breasts and assertively push them around, up and together and apart. Then you playfully slap them.
Georgia is shocked, but she doesn't tell you to stop.
You wrench her black panties down. This is her total naked moment. It's also her capitulation moment. You notice her stunning, girly, fleshy bits. Her shaved pouty flaps of femininity. She is adorable between her legs. You hardly pause but see it all with a lustful eye.
Nothing ever really prepares you for the uniqueness of the stunning human primary sex zone; yes, you know the basic geography and the layout in general, but the unique vista. Well, you take it in. First, with your eyes, then with your face so close and then you molest it with vigour.
You gouge your tongue hard about and in and around Georgia's receptively pink wet invitation. The trollop moans, but you have the filthy desire to find her limits and push them farther. You insert three fingers in her slit, deliberately, quickly and intensely. She is so friggin wet it happens easily. You know, in the right mood, you like it gentle and circling for yourself. None of that here and now for Georgia. Your fingers stretch and gape her slut hole. She groans. You insert a finger in her arse. She yelps helplessly, repeatedly.
You finger fuck the bitch. You frig her. You jab and dig into her rapidly. Your thumb pushes into her clit. Your fingers are ramming into her cunny. You can hear the squelch of her coochie juices. Her queef. You jolt and jerk your fingers as deep as you can, and your hand and arm force her body to join in with her pussy's uninhibited pleasure.
You know it's trashy, wild and tacky. The sort of sex you want yourself but never admit or ask for. Yet if it ever started on your body, you would never want it to stop. You want the tramp to feel as good and as cheap as you do. You want her to do this and more to you in a minute. You want the finger fuck and the arse rampage of your own life too.
You see Georgia's girly hole dripping femcum out of her finger fucked crevice. You watch your fingers doing their beautiful, dirty work.
Wow, is the girl stretched.
My; the girl is at her cunt's capacity for pleasure. God, the girl is oozing a small squirt of liquid as you bring her g-spot and clit into climax together.
Georgia's body quivers, trembles and fully convulses under your strenuous efforts. Fuck you are jagged, forceful and good at the same time. You are pleased with yourself. You look up into her face. It's flushed and super happy. You hold her gaze as her orgasm subsides. She starts to look relaxed. She is all woman. You wait, enjoying her body's delight with her.
Then you see the glint building in her wide, happy eyes. Her glasses are carefully off.
Suddenly, she has a revealing, raw, ribald, vulgar smirk, and Georgia pounces onto your body. You realise the slattern is about to take you beyond your sexual frontier.
"You slitch; that was fuckin awesome, but now I'm going to fist your slut hole; join your pussy to the fat end of that bottle and frig your starfish till you beg me to stop."
You know it is more than trash talk as they hem and confine you down, one hand circling your neck, the other with push and impulse, spreading your legs. Then she grips and rips your pantyhose open and off and uses them to tie your hands behind your back.
Total anticipatory submission.
Of course, I was willing.
But God: what had I unleashed after hours?
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone