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The rain brings out the desire in a young woman.
My original fantasy only grew from where I left it, and my dick grew with it. I imagined stripping Lynn out of her prim office attire, leaving her in only her stockings, heels, and jewelry. In my mind's eye, her breasts were plump, pale, and perfect: sagging slightly with age, but not drooping. I pictured her bush as full, wild, and matching her hair, red flecked with gray. Throughout the weekend, I pictured myself and Lynn in a wide variety of sexual acts, from suckling her huge luscious boobs, to blowjobs, to cunnilingus, to titfucking, to bending her over my desk and fucking her like mad. Each time I found my mind drifting to these thoughts, I also found my hand drifting to my cock. I rubbed myself raw that weekend. I convinced myself that this was okay, and that if I weren't going to be pursuing Lynn for a sexual relationship, there was no harm in using her in my imagination as masturbation fodder.
That kind of so-called logic was fine, but I couldn't forget what Lynn had done in the train car. By the time I returned to work on Monday, I was determined to play it cool. She made it easy to do that. All week, everything was strictly status quo. While I found myself looking at Lynn a bit too frequently, she never mentioned the previous Friday's incident, and neither did I. I know she noticed me looking at her a few times, but I figured, "So what?" I stayed just a little late each day to avoid catching the same train as Lynn, since I thought it would just be easier for me that way. Everything seemed fine. Apparently, Lynn just wanted a little thrill the day she grabbed my cock on the train.
Friday had blessedly rolled around again, as it had promised to do all week. The afternoon slump had the whole office dragging. At 2:30pm, Lynn volunteered to make a coffee run. She made a loop around the cubicles with a small notepad taking orders and collecting cash. When she brought back my latte, I thanked her. Lynn smiled, and I thought she had a twinkle in her eye. I chalked it up to having been a long week. I had, after all, stroked off to thoughts of Lynn each day that week after work. I was probably imagining things.
Around 4pm I was feeling pretty lousy. Well, actually, I was feeling kind of drunk. Everything was kind of fuzzy around the edges, and I was somewhat dizzy and felt like I was moving in slow motion. It was early spring, and there had been a late recurrence of flu, so I assumed that on top of it having been a long week, I was probably coming down with something. I looked at my watch to see that it was 4:30. Much of the office was clearing out, since our boss Ed was pretty lax about leaving early on Fridays. In fact, I would be surprised if he was still in the office himself. So I decided to call it a week and started tidying my desk.
Just then, I heard someone say, "Excuse me, Zach." I knew it was Lynn before I turned to face her. She was standing just outside my cubicle. After I turned to face her she asked, "Oh my. Are you okay?"
I nodded. "Coming down with something, I think," I admitted. "But I'll be fine."
"Well I was going to ask for your help carrying some things over from the supply room," she told me, "But if you're not feeling well...."
"No, it's okay," I said. My head swam as I stood, and I wondered if it was okay. Still, I followed her down to the supply room, past the elevators and across from the restrooms. I was woozy, but not so out of it that I didn't notice Lynn's ass swaying from side to side as she walked. She wore brown that day, including a snug brown sweater woven with a bit of glittery thread, a bouncy brown skirt with pink floral highlights, chocolate brown stockings, and brown heels with silver buckles on them. I was hypnotized by her swaying buttocks as she unlocked the supply room and flipped on the light.
I didn't have much reason to go to the supply room, but it was bigger than I'd remembered from my perfunctory first-day office tour.