Sarah's Quest, a short story by VanBakrook. Date added: 2010-08-18. Times viewed: 2497.
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- Intro: Lesbian fetishism in the office
I have a crush on my boss. Her name is Elizabeth. She is thin, very sexy – works out most days. My name is Sarah, her personal assistant. I have wanted to have sex with her for as long as I can remember. Sometimes I blush when she catches me looking at her for no reason. Sometimes I slip my hand between my legs and get myself wet thinking about her. Recently, I think I have become a little obsessed and frankly a little desperate. I feel like asking her out for a drink and make it clear I want more. Sometimes I pick up girls in bars, I take them home, let them have sex, but during I think about Liz and imagine her there between my legs.
But recently I boiled over: Here’s the story.
Liz had left the building, I was sure of it. But there on her tidy desk was her gym bag, she never left it here, my boss was normally so with it. It was six now and getting dark, I guess she must have gone. I wonder over to her desk; I should move it, place it somewhere for her, ready for morning.
I pick up the bag and lay it carefully on my desk and sit staring at it for what seemed like a long time.
I get up, close and lock the door and return to my place. I tremble as I know what I want to do. So I draw open the string that keeps it closed, it opens and there, inside, are her wet clothes, knotted and tight. My searching fingers tangle amongst the mass and soon I find them, small and dark, hidden at the bottom.
My heart beats wild, I’m scared now. I take them out, carefully unwrap them, her tiny panties now in my hand. I take the air deep into my mouth that filters through the delicate material, and I tingle. I move them closer to my nose, much closer, I can smell her. The warmth of my breath reveals her presence before me, her legs open.
It’s not enough for me now, just this olfactory. I take them and condense them in my hot hand. At my desk, on my chair, I open my legs and carefully tuck them into my own hot body. I push and they are inside. I take a finger to myself and rub with passion, I jolt and I tremble. I feel myself rising – I feel hot, wet, and slippery – then I end with an aching feeling. From inside I pick them lose, pull them out. I put them again near to my mouth. I stretch out my tongue and start sucking and drawing our combined essence. She is still very much part of the fabric, woven in perhaps, I swallow and let it sink into by body.
I dry myself with them, clean with them, let them absorb me. I wonder if she will notice in the morning. I hope so.
I turn out the light, turn around, and look at the bag then leave.
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