"Happy Birthday Mr. Hewitt"

This is one of my earlier posts to ERWA & I'm rather proud of it.

I've left in the original intro.:

"I think that this thousand word quickie came as a kind of reward for my struggling with several "good" ideas that weren't so good when I'd got them part written. Prompted, I think, by the "bounteous bosom debate" in Parlour recently here it is for your enjoyment (I hope). Crit and comment as you wish. My goodness, I've been here 1/3rd of a year already and I'm loving it. Who'd have thought weirdos could be so nice!!!!"







"Happy Birthday Mr. Hewitt"
by Julius

Copyright 2002




"Well, thank you," he said to the vision of loveliness that had just breezed, un-knocking, into his office and wished him a 'Happy Birthday.'

"Could you spare me a few minutes of your time?" she asked. He nodded. She turned and locked the door. "This is rather delicate."

She ignored his gesture towards a chair and came and stood in front of the desk, her thighs pressing against its edge. She was dressed in a dark-blue business suit, jacket and skirt. The jacket was unbuttoned. Her blonde hair was pulled back into a long pony tail.

To his amazement she reached up and began unbuttoning the top of her blouse. She did it with a delicious slowness. The question "What are you doing?" died unasked on his lips; she was obviously unbuttoning her blouse! He was busy button-watching. Button-watching changed to breast watching as cleavage and breast overflow and lacy white bra came increasingly into view. She had somehow shrunk his pants and he was becoming desperate to ease a kinked cock into a straight and vertical line. The blouse unbuttoned, she pulled it out from the waistband of her skirt and held it open. She was a heavy girl, the bra was a pretty, no nonsense affair with wide straps at the shoulders. It had a big job to do. A lot of her threatened to spill over the top of the cups. And her cleavage, oh her cleavage!

She rested her hands on the desk and bent her elbows, seeming about to pour her breasts out in front of him. Her warmth and perfume swept over him in a soft cloud. "I'll close my eyes for a moment while you get your cock more comfortable," she paused, "He is uncomfortable? I sure hope he is!" Her eyes closed and he did as she suggested. Oh but it felt better! His finger tips emerged from his pants, glistening and trembling.

Her eyes flicked open and she slowly licked her lips. His eyes followed the pink tip of her tongue."Well you're obviously a tits man, but what do you think of this?" She stood and turned around. She bent and caught the hem of her skirt at the back and slowly, oh so wickedly slowly, pulled it up the backs of her thighs. He felt his breathing and heart rate quickening. Her stockings were black with deep, lacy tops. The side garters up her thighs spoke of a black garter belt further up. She wore a white thong, just the bulging little patch covering the swell of her pussy between the tops of her thighs and the tiny triangle at the tip of her spine. Whatever joined them was buried deep. Her long white thighs above the stockings were topped by full and beautiful buttocks. He felt driven to tell her that she had a lovely derriere but she glanced back at him and said, "It is a nice ass isn't it?" He nodded in mute agreement.

She perched the beautiful ass on his desk and spun slowly round, kicking her right leg high to pass over his head as she turned. Now she was sat on the desk facing him, one foot down on each side of his knees. She leaned back on her hands and smiled. "It's the cutest little thong, like to see?"

Poor Graham could only nod. She put a hand to the hem of her skirt and lifted it. It was indeed the cutest little thong and, like her bra, showed nearly as much of her as it concealed. Tiny and tight it looked beautifully uncomfortable. A small cloud of blonde curls peeped from either side. Every contour of her prominent pussy showed against the thong's tight fabric.

He just looked and looked while she smiled and squirmed, slowly. He was engulfed in her woman scent. His cock ached and his hammering heart and audible breathing proclaimed his arousal. She turned on the desk again, her left leg now soared over his head, a white thigh and buttock glided before his eyes. She lay back with her spiked heels digging into the leather of the desk corners. Her head hung over the other end. "Come round here Mr. Hewitt and we'll let that poor cock of yours escape." He got to his feet and, trance-like, moved round to stand at her head. Slim fingers with long scarlet nails had him unzipped in a moment and by some magic, his briefs were pulled down at the front, inside his pants and his cock was out and looking so proud.

Her hands were on him, small and warm. "He's so big and ready isn't he?" he heard her say. He was happy beyond measure at the admiring tone in her words. She bent it cruelly down until he all but cried out. He groaned with helpless pleasure. She stroked her chin with his cock head, leaving her skin glistening with his juice wherever it touched her. He was scared he'd come too soon and wanted to tell her to slow down. His whole body seemed to be shivering.

She paused and her blue eyes looked up into his. Both her hands gripping him gently, squeezing very slowly, rhythmically, as if milking him. His own hands became white-knuckled fists. He was almost sobbing.

She kissed the end of his cock. "Is Gordon ready for his birthday present?"

"Gordon?" he whispered "Gordon's my brother, my twin brother, his office is down the hall."

In the next minute she was a blur of buttoning fingers and suit-smoothing hands. She apologised at least three times and seemed desperately sorry for embarrassing him. Graham was speechless. Words wouldn't come. She paused in the doorway, "If you're twins, this must be your birthday too! Well, happy birthday Mr. Hewitt."

And she was gone, her heels staccatoing down the hallway to Mr. Hewitt's office.