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Nikki Lacy

Category: Group Sex
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I hired her solely on her looks, I’m not even going to begin to pretend there was any other real reason.

She was midwest-innocence, sex-on-a-stick, dumb as a brick, yet sweet as a farmer’s daughter, all wrapped in one.

Nikki Lacy was her name. I couldn’t make it up if I scanned the strip club advertisements in the newspaper and looked for the stage name of tonight’s featured pole dancer.

It doesn’t get any better for the plot, truth being stranger than fiction, and Nikki certainly could have more-than-qualified for the stripper’s role, too, if she chose to do so.

My so-called professional forte was to turn around the financial performance of struggling regional shopping malls. It was challenging in a way, as much due to the fact that I was usually relocating to another state every year or so. At the same time, having come out of a divorce three years prior, it also provided me with a fresh supply of pussy with the knowledge that I wasn’t going to be tied down in one geographic area. And, to be modest, I took full advantage of that particular perk of the job.

This current assignment was in Central Ohio, just east of Columbus, which in the late 1990’s was the equivalent of the cultural dark side of the moon, at least from my perspective, a born-and-raised city boy from the mean streets of Philly. But, to this day, and much to my everlasting and pleasant surprise, I have not resided in an area with as many beautiful women with a, shall we say, rather enthusiastic spirit of carnal exploration. GO Bucks GO!

I inherited a workforce that was about as motivated as Santa’s elves the day after Christmas. Not to sound age-biased, but they were also each about as old as civil war muskets. My secretary, or excuse me, my administrative assistant as she insisted she be referred to, was about a surly as a scorpion caught in a Buckeye winter, not just to me, her new boss, but to customers and tenants alike.

It was only a matter of time and circumstance before I could go through the HR bullshit of developing a ‘ incident file’ against her to get rid of her. I knew it wouldn’t take long, especially when I started to fuck the VP of Human Resources several weeks later. That helps to expedite personnel favors.

The mall was undergoing an expansion and aesthetic facelift, and it was made subtly known to me by the owners that the new staff makeup should coincide with the new image they were determined to project: fresh, friendly, upbeat.

By a fortuitous twist of fate, Nikki worked for the construction company tasked with renovating the Mall, and I saw her for the first time after I was in Ohio for about a month. They had a trailer out in the parking lot, and their copier was on the fritz, so Nikki came in to use ours in the outer office. I didn’t even know who she was or what she was doing, but I walked out of my own office and saw this young REDHEAD (yum!) in painted-on jeans, with legs as long as the summer solstice, leaning over the tray with a mid-riff top on, exposing an alabaster tummy that was flatter than Licking County’s terrain. I knew instantly that I’d found my new, administrative assistant.

(Yep, the mall was located in Licking County, how could I forget that? There was a neighboring high school called Big Walnut, again true, and my all-time favorite headline in the Columbus Dispatch was when the home team’s girls’ high school basketball team had a victory, memorialized thusly by the Dispatch’s headline: Licking Valley Girls Beat Big Walnut. Look it up.)

Nikki and I talked more over the next few weeks, as I noticed she came into the office frequently, most of the time for no apparent reason, much to the fuming chagrin of my sec…well, you know who. Nikki made it known that she’d be searching for a full-time gig once the construction company’s job was completed, and I told her to give me a copy of her resume, although I already had all the background data I needed to finalize my choice.

Twenty-six-years-old. Five-feet-ten; maybe one-hundred-and-twenty-five pounds; big, watery sky-blue eyes; flaming curly bright red hair, shoulder-length; the cutest freckles scattered liberally on her entire body, including her pert tits; and an ass as tight as the cover on a snare drum. Her resume contained more typos than a text message from a dyslexic fifth-grader, but hey, spelling is sooooo overrated for a secre…um, it’s just overrated in general. She had the most important attributes, and as you can see, I can do my own typing, thank you.

So, that’s the background. I’ll spare you the gory details of hirings and firings and just fast-forward to the day a year later when it was time for me to be transferred once again, another successful transformation in the books. An upgraded, popular, vibrant mall.

Yet even more important: four hot store managers, a regional manager, two customers, a waitress in Garfields, and the aforementioned corporate vice-president of HR were among the women I had bedded, ranging in age from twenty to fifty, a potpourri of Licking, Muskingum, Franklin and Fairfield County’s hottest pussy.

Best yet, I somehow had managed to keep my hands off of my sweet assistant Nikki, figuring the less I paid attention to her, the more intrigued she would become. And, humbly, it wasn’t like I had a lot of nights free. The local women somehow thought that I made a million bucks because I was one of the few males in the county whose favorite suit wasn’t John Deere-green, splattered with chewing tobacco, so I had a more-than-active dance card during my time at the Mall.

It was Labor Day weekend, and I was scheduled to report to my new position in Pennsylvania on the upcoming Tuesday, but I had volunteered to stay and work some of the weekend to finish the budget for my replacement, the incoming manager. Nikki had volunteered to, um, assist me as well. Dear girl.

Now or never.

Since there would be no one else in the office, and no tenants or customers really knew we were going to be there, I told Nikki to feel free to dress casually. Nikki was always one to follow directives literally, thank goodness.

I was already in the office at 8 a.m. that Saturday with the outer lights turned off and the shades on the plate-glass door pulled down. The forecast was for high humidity and temperatures soaring into the nineties, so it wasn’t the worst day to be stuck inside doing budgets. That’s when I heard Nikki’s key turn in the door and I watched her enter.

Daisy Duke herself would not have ventured outside in the cut-off denim shorts that Nikki wore that day, lest she be arrested by Sheriff Rosco P. Coltrane for indecent exposure. The front crotch seam was pressed so far up her pussy that every outline and crevice of her swollen labia were evident, and small wisps of strawberry-golden hairs kissed the very tops of her thoroughbred-long-and-muscularly-lean thighs. She turned to lock the door, providing me with the rear-angle view, and a pair of panties could not have been adorned under those jean shorts unless placed by a pair of tweezers, or by micro-surgery.

She also had on a sleeveless multi-color-striped tank-top that stopped somewhere south of her rather small tits but waaaaaay north of her tanned and toned navel. I barely noticed that she had a Longaberger picnic basket in her right hand.

This was patently inappropriate work attire, I immediately decided, silently. Not because of what Nikki was wearing, but because about ninety minutes ago, I was getting my cock sucked for the third time since eight o’clock that previous evening by Christina, the barely-post-teenage waitress from Garfields.

I thought he’d be getting a well-deserved respite today due to budgetary constraints, but when the little fella saw Nikki’s attire, he rose like a true champion. ‘Looks like plans have changed, boss,’ he winked up at me, stretching to full length almost instantly.

Despite her beauty, Nikki truly had no idea just how hot she was, at least in my opinion. She was indeed country-girl shy and seemingly unaware of the effects she had on most of the male population who didn’t require bifocals. Until today, that is. She knew damn well she was dressed to kill, to entice, to seduce. She gave me a wry smile, watching my reaction. “Well, well, Mr. Iceberg likes what he sees, huh?” She put her hands on her hips which caused her blouse to rise higher towards her chest, exposing more of her tummy. “About time! On your last weekend, too. Just think what we could have been doing.”

She pushed me gently by my chest into my office, put her arms around my neck, and kissed me….slow, hot, long, and deep, her pelvis easing against mine so that I could feel the inferno between her legs. Each time I invariably reached to cup her breasts or caress her ass, she playfully slapped my hands away, though the escalating kissing continued unabated. We made out for maybe five minutes, and ended only when she rubbed the back of her palms across my impossibly engorged and twitching cock while stepping backwards.

“I’ve talked to a few of your conquests about this magical dragon of yours.” I tried to conceal my surprise with a look of confused innocence, but I was truly intrigued myself now. Whom did she talk to?

She put the picnic basket on my chair, leaning over purposely to show me even more of her luscious ass. I could almost tell what she had for breakfast with that view. “They couldn’t believe that you and I had never fooled around,” she said over her shoulder. Then she turned around and her blue eyes blazed with lust.

“Or should I say, fucked? They couldn’t believe we hadn’t ever fucked.”

She turned again and walked into the outer office, to her small cubicle. “Let’s discuss it more over lunch, shall we? Until then, we have work to do.” Never in my life did I so wish to be a swivel chair, but I played along, utilizing all the willpower I could possibly muster.

In between tugs on my dick and struggling to recede a perpetually burgeoning hard-on, I needed to come out from hibernation about every fifteen minutes or so to provide Nikki with new data to input. Each time I brazenly ogled those impossibly sexy legs and the tight, tanned ripples on her stomach, but she treated me with the icy, disdainful brevity of a librarian who was brusquely accepting an overdue book being returned at closing time.

Only once did she let down her guard that morning. I couldn’t help to ask, I knew she basically lived with her jarhead boyfriend, best known for once accidentally shooting his best friend while drunkenly hunting in a snowy deer blind. The poor bastard lived, but the story was local legend for the ages. “Did Jimbo see you leave the house like that?”

She almost giggled at the absurd thought of THAT happening, and then almost sneered. “Fucknuts is fishing for the weekend. I doubt he can shoot anybody while fishing, but you never know.” She looked at me, suddenly innocent with those watery, doe-eyes again. “So, no, he has no idea. But he’s been accusing me of fucking you for months now.”

It was the first day I had ever heard Nikki curse, and that alone shocked me more than anything else she said. The naughty language was flowing liberally today. She turned back to the keyboard and mumbled, mainly to herself but loud enough for me to hear. “Be careful what you wish for, Jimmy boy.”

It was eleven-fifteen. I was getting hungry.

I gazed once again at Nikki, who was now writhing her hips back and forth, almost imperceptibly, and the swivel chair began to rock slightly. She was thrusting her hips forward, each movement a bit more urgently. I looked even more closely and I could see an unmistakable, though barely visible stream of nectar pooling on the crotch seam of her shorts, oh, so high on the thigh. “Are you alright, Nikki?” I asked, curious but caring, though I had a inkling what was transpiring.

She grunted softly, huskily, and then exhaled before answering, the tight ripples on her tummy undulating like a wave pool. “Unffff, the…the seam of my shorts is, ooh, the seam is pressing…pressing directly against..against my……unnnnnhh….”

I took her by the hand. “Time for a break, Nikki. Are you thirsty? You look parched, flushed.”

I had inherited a small leather couch in my somewhat cramped office, and I hadn’t broken it in during my twelve months on the job. That streak was going to come to an end this morning, and well into the afternoon.

I gently guided Nikki down onto the couch and knelt before her. The smell of her arousal wafted through the thin office, bouncing off of the ceiling and walls and back into my nostrils. “Push your legs up into your chest, and open your legs a bit.” Her lips were quivering now, realizing the teasing, the foreplay, the waiting, was over. We had waited a year to have each other, and our carnal alarm clocks rang as one.

As her long legs rose, her knees now touching her tits, and her erect nipples prominently poking through the tank-top, I gingerly pulled her thighs apart so that the seam pulled into her drenched pussy lips, and two pink, puffy and swollen labia peeked out from either side of the shorts. She was trembling now, in complete subservience, the loyal assistant about to be rewarded by the grateful mentor.

I took the thumb of my right hand and tenderly pressed it into the seam of her shorts that was essentially smothering her vagina, and it was like turning on a faucet connected to her clit. A tiny waterfall of warm, white-yellow liquid oozed out of each side of her shorts, streaming down her thighs, and she blushed Buckeye Crimson with her combination of sheer arousal, surrender, and mortification.

I took two fingers and dabbed at the pool on her legs, now dripping onto the couch. “You squirt,” I said softly, stating the incredibly obvious.

She gasped, still in the blissful throes of orgasmic after-shock, rocking on the couch. “That has only happened twice.” she moaned, shuddering. She smiled, correcting herself. “Well, make it three. I have to be unbelievably turned on for that to happen.”

“I’m flattered then, by all means.” Suddenly I recalled something I had seen once in a porno film. It was a fortuitous time to remember the scene, and I reached for an empty coffee mug on my desk. “Let’s make ourselves some juice, shall we?”

I lifted Nikki up and tugged at the impossibly tight shorts until they finally cascaded down her lovely legs, and admired both the vision and sweetly musky aroma of this redhead-in-heat before me.

I pushed her back onto the couch, placing one leg on the armrest and the other as high on the backrest as she could stretch, and for the next fifteen minutes or so my fingers and tongue and lips and thumbs alternately tickled and teased and assaulted her delicious, spraying quim until we had ourselves a mug if cum and a secr, sorry, administrative assistant who was ready to suck the cock of her boss.

A cock which was covered liberally in her own warm ejaculate as I finally extacted my girth from the confines of my pants and dipped my cock into the mug of cum.

Nikki panted at the sheer filthy eroticism of it all as she spit strands of her saliva onto my cock to concoct a messy cocktail of squirt, spit, and pre-cum. She pulled her tank top over her shoulders and began to rub her firm chest frantically against the tip of my cock, tit-fucking me. I was just about to spurt my seed all over her, preparing to use her pink nipples as a bullseye, when the doorbell to the outer office rang, startling me enough to grab my pants and pull them back up in a panic.

Nikki on the other hand, glanced cavalierly at the clock on the wall. Twelve-oh-two. “Right on time,” she said calmly, reclining back on the couch and again beginning to diddle her saturated quim. I looked at her aghast. Someone had to answer the door, right? Right?

Nikki leaned over and smoothed the seam of my pants, trying to unwrinkle them. “I invited Kelly Fraser over for lunch, and if things go as I think they will, dinner tonight.” Kelly Fraser was the smoking hot, petite, twenty-four year-old manager of a specialty shop in the mall. Kelly was gorgeous, with short, dark hair and the most seductive, brown, come-fuck-me eyes on the planet. Except she was married already, seemingly depriving the rest of manhood of her charms for eternity.

Nikki’s next sentence shocked me, while simultaneously causing an instant resurrection in my crotch. “Her hubby is fishing with Jim, and she’s just salivating at the chance to be part of your good-bye present. Her husband hasn’t fucked her in months, can you imagine?”

I buckled my belt awkwardly as Nikki remained naked and plunged a finger into her slit. “Go answer the door, boss. It’s a lunch time special. Two-for-one.”

I adjusted my hard-on and peeked through the blinds. Sure enough, Kelly Fraser, splendiferous in a baby blue blouse and a light cotton skirt.

“Hi, Mr. Lane,” she said subserviently as I cracked the door just enough to usher her thin torso through the opening. She always called me Mr. Lane despite my urgings to the contrary. I admit, though, I kinda liked it. “Um, Is Nikki here?”

‘Yeah, Kelly’, I thought to myself. ‘She’s the naked redhead on my couch in a pool of cum fingering herself. C’mon in, you can’t miss her.’

“Oh, Nik!” I called out. “A friend of yours is here!”

Nikki peeked out behind the door jamb, displaying just a naked, freckled shoulder. “HI, Kel, party’s just gettin’ started!” She waggled a finger towards us. “Come try this delicious coffee that John just had me brew!”

Within seconds, Kelly had stripped away her clothes without any pretense of surprise or embarrassment. “I have a half-hour for lunch,”she announced, as I admired her small, toned, though bronzed body, almost the color of a Native American’s. Her under-utilized pussy was framed by neatly trimmed coarse black hairs in an upside down ‘V’ pointing directly to her mons.

She climbed onto Nikki’s face as Nikki grabbed Kelly’s perfect little ass and began to snake out a long tongue into her quivering snatch. It was immediately apparent to me from their comfort and intimacy level that this wasn’t the first lesbian rodeo for the two young Buckeyes.

Taking the cue, I stripped myself, joining the fun lunch bunch, and deeply plunged into Nikki’s drenched cunt for the first time, reaching over while pumping her and sticking my fingers into ‘Nikki’s Nectar’ and offering them for Kelly to savor by sucking on my fingertips.

I planned on getting a patent for the name brand of the unique coffee blend, but never got around to it. Hey, I was distracted.

Nikki’s tongue soon brought Kelly to an animated orgasm, and Kelly jumped down from the couch like a gymnast and knelt to the side of Nikki and began to lick her clit while my dick slid in and out of Nikki’s pussy. Two tight globes of tanned buttocks were in such a position that no man would have been able to resist, so I withdrew from Nikki amidst her squeals of frustration, grabbed Kelly’s hips firmly, and squeezed my dick, covered with Nikki’s creams, into the tightest, hottest love canal I have ever experienced.

Kelly’s box felt like a velvet glove gripping my dick with a death-grip, and as her muscles clenched to somehow accept more than several inches of my thick, throbbing pole, she lapped happily away at Nikki’s tunnel, who writhed and moaned wide-eyed, watching my impale and stretch her friend’s tiny cunt.

My cum soon splashed out, and before I could get a chance to position the direction, shot after shot cascaded down onto Kelly’s back and leaked into her asscheeks as her cunt shivered with the aftershocks of a violent explosion. Nikki raised up from the couch and began to run her tongue from her friend’s backbone, tracing it down until Nikki’s face disappeared into the cave of Kelly’s anus.

It was the single most erotic thing I have ever been a part of, to this day, and I soon felt Nikki’s mouth begin to suckle my balls while she pulled on my pecker, and she fingered Kelly to yet another release.

It was quite the lunch break. It beat the hell out of Arby’s anyday.

We got around to the picnic basket after Kelly went back to work, promising to join us again in a few hours for dinner at my place. Nikki punctuated the lunch by trying to shoot grapes, using just the muscles of her cunt, into the mug containing her liquid love. An impromptu game of corn-hole.

A good portion of the rest of the Labor Day Saturday afternoon in the office was with me being the fortunate recipient of the softest, sweetest and loving oral attention from dear Nikki.

She tenderly sucked on my cock and made love to my balls for more than an hour before finally evoking a massive amount of built-up sperm from deep within me. It was like the old Tootise Pop commercial, how many licks does it take to get to the center? Or in this case, the cumshot onto the face?

The world may never know.

The budget turned out to be a half-assed work-in-progress, but the incoming mall manager had much bigger problems to tackle.

Such as how to get the mysterious stains removed from his couch. And just what was that smell in the coffee mug, anyway?

Maybe you’d like to hear what we all had for dinner?

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