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K R I S T E N' S C O L L E C T I O N
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Archive name: Richard.txt (mf,drunk)
Authors name: rodsti@hotmail.com (Rod Stiffener)
Story title : SCREW YOU TOO, RICHARD
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(c) Copyright 1998
This work is copyrighted to the author, with all rights
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SCREW YOU TOO, RICHARD
by Rod Stiffener (rodsti@hotmail.com)
It was time for our annual office Christmas party.
Hmmm ... I know what you are thinking. You're think-
ing, "How many times have I read THAT in a story as a
pretext for naughty goings-on?"
But consider the circumstances of these affairs. It
is the end of a hard year. Everyone wants to let their
hair down. Large quantities of alcohol get consumed.
People who have secretly fancied each other all year
finally rake up the courage to do something about it.
You'd be surprised what can happen! I know I was.
Sue worked on the floor above ours, though we were all
part of the same organisation. She was an accountant
in the administration section. Bubbly personality,
very out-going, and very intelligent. Also pretty,
with dark hair and dark eyes. She was confident and
in-control of her life, and living happily in sin with
a chap who seemed to spend most of his time planting
trees on an out-of-town homestead that they had pur-
chased together.
Me and the other folks in my section got on well with
Sue. We had a social volleyball team which she some-
times joined in with. It was entertaining to see her
play, because although she was petite, wasp-waisted and
fairly compact in stature, she was well-endowed in
front. Not loose floppy ones that swung about, I mean
firm, high, round breasts that bounced when she bounced
and which gave her a top-heavy look. Her unofficial
nickname among the guys was Wonderwoman. She could
equally have been nicknamed Brainbox, or Mega-Memory
(since she was both of those too), but funnily enough
Wonderwoman was the name that stuck.
She took it in good humour, and didn't seem at all
fazed by what God had given her. She had her own no-
nonsense way of dealing with any unwanted attention.
Back to the party. Things were only just warming up.
My section had formed a clique in the corner around a
low table and were playing a drinking game called
"Mexies". It involved throwing dice, where the numbers
that came up determined whether or not you had to
skull your drink on the spot, and if so, how many
drinks you had to skull.
All very democratic and a source of much amusement,
but unfortunately it does not take into account dif-
ferent capacities for alcohol. I personally have a
considerable biomass advantage when it comes to absor-
bing alcohol, but Sue is petite, remember?
Sensibly, she took a break from Mexies and came and
stood beside me in the corner. Stewart was telling one
of his "pig" jokes, which are pretty gross and some-
thing of a specialty with him. I mean, in how many
situations can a human fuck a pig without the plot get-
ting stale? But he could always surprise us with new
twists on that theme.
Sue turned to me and casually asked, "How's your sex
life been lately?"
Well, that's pretty upfront as an opener for conver-
sation!
I didn't know whether it was typical volleyball-team
banter, or had deeper meaning. But I took it at face
value and replied "Non-existent".
Which was true. I was, how shall we put it, "between
relationships" at that time.
"And how about yourself?"
She looked thoughtful.
"A bit slow. I never thought I would get jealous of
some trees."
It seemed that their homestead was a bit far out for
an easy commute, so she stayed in town for the working
week and joined her Flower Child partner on weekends.
Well, another "pig" joke was reaching its inevitable
climax, to the sound of much laughing and some gagging,
so this sort of changed the subject.
And then the Karaoke got started, with our Vice-
President being dragged to the microphone to perform
"I did it my way" as an opening salvo in the singing
wars. Just as well most of us were drinking heavily,
we certainly wouldn't have stayed for the music.
A Karaoke list was being handed around the room,
whereby people were supposed to write down their name
and the name of the song that they wanted to sing.
Except that high-spirited individuals were writing
down the names of other unsuspecting people and pairing
them with the most dreadful songs imaginable.
Both kinds of dreadful songs. Country, AND Western!
So the poor Karaoke compere would announce a person's
name and song over his mike only to be met by a hail
of empty beer cans from some of those named.
Inevitably my name was called, along with the song
title "I walk the line" by Johnny Cash. Well, I was
going to put a stop to that. I took the mike, and as
the backing track for "I walk the line" was played, I
bellowed over the top of it the words and melody for
"House of the Rising Sun" by the Animals. People had
their hands pressed over their ears and anguished looks
on their faces, but I callously continued right to the
end. There! Nobody should pull a stunt like that on
me again!
Back to my corner, and there was Sue.
"Good one. You really butchered THAT tune."
"But enough of my talents," I answered modestly.
"How was your year? Was it a fruitful one?"
I took a moment to admire her neckline, where her
boobs bulged upwards to almost meet in the middle.
"So-so. Basically, my boss sucks."
Yes, I had heard about Richard. A more mean-spirited
individual would be difficult to imagine. I listened
sympathetically as she told a few stories about deeds
he had done or neglected to do, which left his staff
wondering why they ever bothered. The best one was
about poor Warren, a long distance runner of no mean
repute, who had applied for leave to go to an overseas
Triathlon event that he'd spent weeks training for.
The week before departure he had his leave cancelled
because he was "needed in the office". And it turned
out that the need was slight, he could easily have
gone.
Sue was waxing recklessly lyrical about this Richard,
tongue loosened by drink and not caring who overheard
us. Then she lowered her voice and drew closer to me.
I got an even better look at the upper portions of
breasts that defied gravity.
"You know what I'd like to do?"
"No, what?"
"One of these days, I'd like to leave a nice juicy
wetspot in the middle of his desk blotter."
Fuck me dead!!!
This was strong stuff indeed from normally-bubbly,
happy Sue!
"And your significant other? Will he be your accom-
plice in this dastardly plot?"
"Haven't asked him. But the thought of doing it has
cheered me up during my darker moments in this place."
Hmmm. Some fantasy. That was a new one on me.
Anyway, others barged in at that moment and dragged
Sue up to the Karaoke for a group rendition of "Stop,
in the name of love!" I had a chance to stand back
and watch her shaking it all about within the tight
confines of her short summer dress.
Summer, you say? At Xmas? Well, of course! This
story is the Southern Hemisphere, and we have things
back to front down here. Awright?
Later on, I was coming back from having a pee when
Sue grabbed my arm and steered me into a waiting
elevator. Not too steady on her feet, and with a wild
look in her eye, she said "Let's do that wetspot!"
The doors closed and she pressed the button for the
floor of her section. She still had my wrist in a
tight grip.
"Let me get this straight. You want tonight to be
the night, and me to be the accomplice?"
"Yep!"
"I'm single, but you're not. You don't have a problem
with that?"
She looked me straight in the eye.
"Not tonight I don't."
The elevator doors opened to the darkness of the
closed-up Accounts section. The place was as quiet
as a church. The glow of lights from other buildings
outside lit our way toward Richard's office, as Sue
pulled me along by my arm. Inside, she closed the door
and turned away from me.
"Unzip me."
I did. She pulled that dress right up over her head
and dropped it onto an armchair. In the dim light I
could see shapely hips, a narrow waist, and big round
boobs held up by a thin, flimsy-looking bra. She took
my hand again, and put it on her breast.
"Come on, get me good and wet."
Its not often that I get to grapple with breasts like
these. They felt as firm as they looked. I glided my
hands over them, made circles around her nipples, tried
grabbing them in big handsful, then lightly pinched the
ends a few times. She reached around and unsnapped the
bra, and I pulled it down off her arms. Her breasts
hardly dropped as they were released. I bent and
sucked a teat into my mouth. It felt stiff and rubbery,
and I gave it a good tongue-lashing as my hands wan-
dered to her crotch. I stroked circles onto a firm
buttock while one finger of my other hand slid over
her panty-covered mound to trace along the crevice at
the top of her legs. Things were starting to soften
up down there, as my finger dragged the gusset of her
panties across her pussy lips.
She started undoing the buttons of my shirt, and un-
buckled my belt. I let her go on tugging at my cloth-
ing while I fingered her and transferred my sucking to
the other nipple. I had to let go of her while she
pulled my shirt off, and I took my pants and shoes off
myself. She took the opportunity to get rid of her
panties, then she rearranged Richard's desk. Swept
the pen holders and photo's of his kids to one side,
and pulled the desk blotter toward the outer edge.
The blotter was a leather-bound slab of large-size
paper, just perfect for soaking up fluids.
Sue sat up on it and leaned back. I moved an armchair
across so that she could put her feet up on its arms.
"Okay buster, get licking," she said.
I knelt on the edge of the armchair seat, and bent to
my task. Her legs were up, bent at the knees, and
widely parted. I started from about mid-thigh, softly
kissing the warm smooth skin of her inner legs, making
little licks and swirls on it with my tongue. I moved
to the other leg and nibbled my way further upwards,
where a dark-haired honeypot was waiting for some
attention. Reaching the tops of her thighs, I stopped
further progress and licked at the hollows of her inner
groin at the base of her buttocks.
A sexy musky odour was reaching my nostrils, and I
inhaled it deeply and closely but without touching
anything there. She could probably feel my warm breath
blowing on the sensitive skin, and would be craving to
be touched. But not yet. I skirted the really ero-
genous bits and moved higher, to glide my tongue up
the sides of her mound and tangle it in her bush of
dark hairs. She was very quiet and concentrating hard.
I was enjoying the smell and texture of her. Some
guys say it's like fish, but that isn't even close.
Few things smell as heavenly as this, and fish is
certainly not one of them.
My tongue danced along the sides of her slit, teasing
the soft folds and flicking in between them. Sue lay
right back down on the desk, tipping her pelvis up to
give me full access from arsehole upwards. I licked at
the sensitive patch of skin between each orifice, then
upwards in stabbing movements that thrust into her like
a little cock. Things were getting moist, a combina-
tion of my saliva and her own natural lubricants.
Now the moment she has now doubt been waiting for.
Forming my tongue into a sharp point, I circled the
hood of her clitoris a few times and then homed in on
the centre. She was apparently one of those women who
have a protruding clitoris, at least it was protruding
right now and I could feel it under my tongue without
having to pull back its protective hood. The first
time I hit it, she gave a jolt. Then her hands were
holding my head, using me like a utensil, directing my
flicking tongue to the preferred spot.
I got one hand up under my chin and stuck my index
finger into her entrance. I penetrated her with it as
far as I could, so that my tongue was whirling over her
clit and my finger thrusting simultaneously into her
warm velvety passage. My little finger was able to
tickle her arsehole at the same time. Looking up, I
could see her face framed by twin peaks that sat high
off her chest, nipples puffed up with arousal.
We carried on like that for a good ten minutes, while
she skillfully manipulated my head to build herself up
then back off again, prolonging things to the stage
when she couldn't stand it any more. She came silently,
none of your corny porn-movie "oohing" and "aahing",
but she came violently. I felt the contractions of
her vagina around my finger, and she was raising her
bottom trying to thrust herself against it as the rest
of her body shook and her boobs quivered with her
spasms. There was quite a lot of squirming and wrig-
gling before she was done, then she locked her thighs
around my head to hold me away from her.
When she released me from her scissorhold, I moved
back to view my handiwork. In the dim light I could see
pussy hairs plastered against her outer lips, and a
dewy glistening to the soft folds themselves. Running
my fingertip along her gash and down into the join of
her buttocks, I could feel a coating of slickness all
around. So far so good!
"Okay, its your turn" she said. "Poke it in me, but
when you come, I want you to come ON me."
"Make me hard first" I said, standing on the chair
between her legs.
She sat up and found my fairly-erect prick looking her
straight in the eye. She gripped my shaft and her lips
closed around its head. Just a slow gentle suck to
stimulate the nerve endings a little and encourage as
further rush of blood to that region. I reached down
and fondled a breast, fingers flicking over the end of
her nipple. In only a few moments I was so hard it
felt like bursting.
"Lay back."
She did, and I mounted. I stood over her using
straight arms to hold myself off the desk as my cock
bumped between her legs and found her entrance. It
was wide open and very slippery, so I sank in with
ease. I couldn't make big thrusts without getting
off-balance, so she started meeting each thrust and
soon we had struck up a quick rhythm which was tickling
my cockhead quite nicely. She wrapped her legs up
around my buttocks and used them to pull her pelvis
against mine. You have to be pretty physically fit to
keep that up for very long.
Her pussy was soooooo delicious! Moderately tight
and very slick, it seemed to suck at me as I moved in
her. I could see her face staring up at me in the
gloom, and big round breasts sitting firm and high.
They jiggled back and forth in time to our rhythm. I
could sense that familiar feeling starting to rise and
I wanted to move quicker, so I got down on my elbows
and gripped her shoulders so that I could do some
serious humping. She stuck her warm, wet tongue in my
ear, then whispered, "On me, remember!"
Yes ... well ... this will be a test of will power.
When it came down to it, I let the first spurt go deep
inside her, because it just felt too good. But I pul-
led out for the others and held my cockhead right
against her hairy entrance, jacking myself off to wring
out every available drop. Most of my load was dumped
on those pretty pink lips, from where it dribbled down
to the join of her arsecheeks. When I had stopped
spoofing on her, I used my glans to spread the white
sticky stuff into the hairyness of her outer cunt lips.
I sat back to see what I had done, and in the dim light
could see clots of my semen on, between and within her.
She seemed most pleased, sitting up to see for herself
and test the mess with a delicate fingertip.
"Now, the big moment!" she exclaimed. Sitting forward
to apply her tush firmly to the desk blotter, she wrig-
gled around until everything on her fanny was well and
truly smeared into the blotter.
She got off, and we had a look. Even in the dim light,
it was really obvious. A moist wetspot about six inches
across, with enough cum and pussy juice in it to dry to
a yucky yellow colour. And when we bent forwards and
got our noses closer, we could smell just what it was,
too. Perfect!
Richard was in for a real surprise in the morning when
he came in to work.
We retrieved our clothing and straightened ourselves
up. A last admiring look at our sticky calling card,
then we walked hand-in-hand back to the elevator.
As the doors closed to whisk us away from the scene
of the crime, she clutched my bottom and gave me a kiss
on the cheek.
"I've heard of "say it with flowers," I said. "But
not say it with a wetspot. What are you saying with
your wetspot?"
"Whaddya think? I'm saying, "Screw you too, Richard!"
Comments to: rodsti@hotmail.com (Rod Stiffener)
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