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Concentration

24.01.2020
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I’m Dr Paul Adams. I’m in my mid-twenties and quite fit. I’m a scientist, and good at my work. I have a gift of concentration and can focus on the thing I’m working on to the total exclusion of all else.

If you want to talk to me while I’m at work, don’t bother knocking on the door. I won’t hear you. I’ll also ignore little details like a voice speaking to me or a tap on the shoulder. If you really want my attention, your best bet is to move between me and whatever I’m currently studying.

Just be sure that you really need to talk to me because when I turn to you, you become the focus of my concentration, and you’ll find I can learn a lot more than you intended to tell me by reading your body language.

Also, I don’t suffer fools gladly. Michelle is a fool, always playing her silly little games. She’s officially a secretary at work, a glorified name for an idiot who happens to be the general dogsbody. Very nice figure on her, I will say that much, and she dresses to advertise, if you know what I mean.

— –

Hi. I’m Michelle. I work as a secretary for an R&D firm. Actually, when I say secretary, I’m more of a general assistant for anyone who needs a hand. A lot of my work seems to involve tracking down old records. This place had a heap of old paper files in one of the store rooms. I keep telling my boss he should get someone to scan the whole lot onto the computer. (Preferably not me.)

I get on well with everyone in the place except for Dr Adams. He’s one of the top researchers. A weird guy, about twenty-five, going on seventy-five. He’s awfully rude, too. He just ignores everyone while he’s working, and he’s always working.

The old records are stored on the floor he runs and theoretically he’s in charge of them. Because he’s officially in charge of the records I make it a point to interrupt him whenever I have to access them to let him know that I’m doing so. He absolutely hates that, but I just smile and act dumb.

— –

Theoretically it was lunch time, but Michelle had arranged to work through her lunch break so that she could leave an hour early. Her boss didn’t mind as, with a bit of luck, she could dig up the old files he needed before he returned from lunch.

Michelle headed up to the records floor and gleefully interrupted Dr Adams. She had just known he’d be working through his lunch break, thinking there’d be no interruptions. Sorry to spoil your day, doc, she laughed to herself.

One of these days when work was slack she was really going to have to come up to this stupid storeroom and start sorting it out. It would be so much easier if the files were in a decent order. She wondered if she could get work to spring for some decent filing cabinets instead of all these dusty old boxes stacked all over the place? Highly unlikely. The only one inconvenienced by it all was her.

The worst files to access were in the boxes under the work-bench. Checking the files she had to locate, Michelle sighed. She had a working knowledge now of where certain types of file were likely to be, and suspected that she knew where these files would be. In short order she was pulling out boxes from beneath the work-bench, leaning over the nearest to reach the ones further back.

He was walking past the store room when he spotted her. Michelle was bending over a pile of boxes, scrabbling for something under the bench. Her skirt had ridden up, exposing a skimpy pair of panties to the world. He considered her for a moment, then shrugged. Some temptations you were supposed to fall for. Stepping into the storeroom, he quietly closed the door behind him.

The first Michelle knew of someone else being in the storeroom with her was when her panties were pulled down and a hand closed over her mound, squeezing it.

She squealed, jerked upright and promptly yelped when she banged her head on the underside of the work-bench. Trying to wriggle out from under the work-bench only resulted in her pushing her pussy firmly against the hand that was playing with it. She squealed again, irritation giving way to anger.

It took her a few moments to realise the extent of her predicament. She couldn’t crawl further under the work-bench because there were files in the road. She couldn’t back out because the man was standing behind her, his hand apparently quite happy to play with her privates and not give her any free room. Neither could she stand up, due to the work-bench, or lie flat due to the files she was sprawled against.

Time to scream for help, she decided. She took a deep breath and promptly lost it again in a yelp of pain as the hand left her pussy long enough to deliver a stinging spank to her bottom. Another attempt at yelling brought another quick spank. Michelle was apparently supposed to just lie there and be molested quietly.

Just wait, she seethed, until he stopped. She was going to have his balls for breakfast and eat them in front of him.

Alternatively rubbing, squeezing, stroking and generally massaging, the obnoxious hand worked on her pussy. A gentle scratching along her lips had her gasping, whereas the intrusion of a couple of fingers between her lips and deep into her slit had her squealing in protest. Not loudly enough to risk another spank, though. The first two had hurt and two were enough, thank you very much.

Resignedly, Michelle lay there, cursing quietly to herself. Sooner or later he’d have to stop, and then she’d have something to say.

She was shocked when she felt her lips being parted and something being inserted between them. He wouldn’t. He couldn’t. Simple groping was one thing. He surely wasn’t going to have sex with her. Her denial came out in a wailing “no” as she felt his cock advancing, pushing past her lips and sinking slowly into her.

She tried to wriggle but hands closed upon her hips, holding her steady while he advanced. And he kept on advancing, Michelle found, sinking deeper and deeper into her. Was it just the fact that she didn’t want this that made him seem so large? Michelle had a horrible suspicion that it wasn’t and that there was a lot of cock entering her.

“Oh god, oh god,” she could hear herself muttering as that cock slowly filled her, finishing with a cry of “Oh my fucking god,” as he suddenly slammed in a couple of final inches.

Michelle could feel herself quivering. She’d never in her life felt so full of cock before. She found herself feeling grateful that the man had taken the time to conduct some foreplay and get her pussy excited and wet. At least that had let him slide into her more easily.

Michelle waited tensely. Now that he was in her she expected him to start slamming home, taking his pleasure quickly. She was slightly shocked to find he was starting to pump her slowly, taking his time withdrawing and pushing back in.

Michelle relaxed slightly now that she knew it wasn’t going to just be a quick and rough rape, and accepted the gentle movements almost gratefully. After a few moments Michelle was mortified to find she was enjoying the soft swaying as this man took his pleasure, while at the same time catering for hers.

Damn it, she thought, I’m being raped. I’m not supposed to like it. Why can’t he just hurry up and get it over with?

Rape or not, and supposed to like it or not, Michelle didn’t really care. She found that she was enjoying his mastery of her body, her helplessness and the way his cock was moving in her. She didn’t want him to hurry up and get it over with. Of course, she told herself, she’d rather he wasn’t doing it at all, but seeing he was it seemed only fair that he do a good job.

Michelle suddenly found that she was moving in time to his thrusting into her. When she felt him sliding in, she was lifting herself and pushing back against him. How long had she been doing that she wondered. She knew she hadn’t intended to.

The slow ravishment went on and on. It appeared there was no hurry, just a careful maximisation of his pleasure, and hers, as an incidental extra. Michelle was finding herself tense and restless as the loving continued, wanting him to speed up a little; needing him to speed up a little.

She groaned with want when he finally started increasing his drive. His thrusts were coming closer together and he was hitting her harder, really pushing home. Michelle’s bottom was working overtime, bouncing frantically to keep up with the heightened assault.

Michelle could hear herself squealing as her climax bore down upon her and she jammed her hand in her mouth. She’d die if she screamed and someone came to see what was wrong. It was one thing to be found with someone molesting her. It was something else again to be found with a cock jammed up her while she screamed and orgasmed.

Then she was screaming into her muffling hand as everything seemed to sweep over her. She could feel him spraying her insides, flooding her with his seed while she clutched at his cock, holding it deep inside her.

Michelle was vaguely aware of him withdrawing as she lay there gasping, her senses swirling around her. Finally realising he was no longer holding she extricated herself from under the work-bench and turned around.

To see nobody. He’d gone, closing the door behind her. He hadn’t even bothered to pull her panties back up she thought grumpily, attending to that little matter.

Breathing hard she left the store room to look around. No-one was there. Everyone was still at lunch apparently. She could here movement from Dr Adams’ office and headed over to it.

Dr Adams was there of course. He always was. Michelle knocked and was ignored. She coughed and said “Excuse me,” and was ignored. Dr Adams was concentrating on the job as usual and she’d have to push between him and his PC for him to register her as a current issue.

Michelle turned and stormed away, a small walking thundercloud. Fancy wanting to ask Dr Adams if he’d seen anyone else come into the office. The fool wouldn’t notice a line of dancing elephants passing down the hall as long as they didn’t disturb his precious work.

Paul smiled slightly as Michelle left. He’d lost enough time, playing with Michelle. He was quite happy not having to discuss the incident with her.

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