Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 TITLE: The Not-so Temp.
TAGS: MF, huge breasts, big buttocks, big cock, vulgar language,
slutdom, exhibitionism, lingerie and stockings, stilettos, fetish clothing,
scat, mild dominance.

   SYNOPSIS: A high-powered lawyer returns to his office after involvement
in a court case to find that his usual puritanical secretary has been
replaced by a voluptuous `temp'.  The two are drawn together by mutual
need, and then she assists him in dealing with one of the firm's `problem
cases'.













   DON'T LET YOUR KIDS SEE THIS!







   These stories have all been written with a very adult audience in mind.
They all have a very heavy sexual content and will contain combinations of
themes.

   If you are likely to be offended by any of the things mentioned in the
`tags' list above, you should not read beyond this point, but immediately
navigate away from this page.

   If you have somehow arrived on this page by accident, immediately
navigate away and come back when you're prepared and consensual.

   The act of writing does not mean that the author is in any way engaged
in or complicit to acts of the nature described herein.  The act of writing
(or even reading) about deviance, perversion and degradation can be a
liberating and strangely cathartic experience, but some ostensibly sexual
behaviours are always going to be wrong.  I cannot tell you which, or why.
You have to make those determinations for yourself.  Scroll down if you
want to read this story, or navigate away if you find any of these tags
suggestive of things you really don't like.















   The `Not so `Temp'!

   Meeting Rita:

   I dragged myself back into the office after a dismal lunch at the
Winterton with what can most effectively be described as a `whipped'
expression, posture and attitude.  If I'd had a tail, it would definitely
have curled downwards and between my legs, the result of a judge who
probably wanted to get things over with the arraignment proceedings as
quickly as possible so that he could, in all probability, get an earlier
tee-time.  I was royally pissed, certain that my dear `client' would run as
soon as she could get her silicon padded butt on an airplane and equally
certain that she wouldn't be back.  After all, would you take the risk of
facing fraud allegations and charges of money laundering, or would you opt
to take an extended holiday in one of your palatial residences in the south
of France or Barbados?

   I had been comforting myself with the thought that at least the bondsmen
and the bounty hunters were shortly going to be having an even more
depressing day than me as I keyed myself through the outer door, waved
vaguely in the direction of the gaggle of court secretaries, clerks and
typists, and pushed through the outer door.  As I did, I vaguely remembered
that my PA, Ms.  Palmer (known to one and all in the office as `The
Puritan' because of her absurdly conservative modes of dressing and
behaviour), had taken an extended leave to be with a sick brother or
something and would be unable to pick up the slack on the cases I had that
were still outstanding.

   So it was a surprise to be pacing across the carpet through her office
and be startled by a sudden shriek from my right and a pile of paper
apparently ejecting itself from a file and falling in slow motion wafts to
litter the deep-pile.  More wide-eyed and `deer-caught-in-the-headlights'
looking than I might have wished, I turned to see a woman, a stranger,
standing next to an open filing cabinet and looking equally startled.

   "Oooh my God, you scared the life out of me," she said, all on an
exhalation of breath from somewhere deep inside.  "I think my heart's where
my tonsils should be." She was patting her chest over her heart and as my
eyebrows went up in enquiry, there were several things about this woman
that my lawyer's brain immediately began to assimilate and process.

   First of all, the chest she was patting was enormous.  Well, maybe
`gargantuan' would be a better term.  I can safely say that at no time in
my life before that moment had I ever seen a woman with a natural rack like
that, even in pornography, or those weird Spanish-language chat shows that
occasionally invite freaks to humiliate themselves in front of millions. 
So, to say that she was patting her chest was to give false testimony; she
was actually patting a rift that, in a smaller woman, would have been
termed her `cleavage'.  On this woman, the chasm that opened between the
upper bulges of her huge titties needed a geological reference, rather than
a purely physical one.  I mean, she actually had to lift her arm and reach
OVER the huge globe of one tit to offer her heart some vibratory comfort:
amazing.

   Straining to cover these missile nose cones was a very sheer,
long-sleeved cardigan; in cashmere, I suppose, although I've never been
much of a one for recognising the materials that various items of a woman's
clothing tend to be made of.  I mean, I couldn't tell you the difference
between Lycra, and Nylon.  Well, I could tell you the difference that they
can all make to a woman's appearance, particularly in relation to cameltoes
and VPL, but not the specifics.  That kind of detail I usually leave to our
investigators.  Suffice to say that the very thin garment was stretched to
virtual opaqueness by having physical properties that were overpowered by
the stress of restraining her bust.

   As she turned and reached her free hand to steady herself by clutching
the top of the cabinet, I saw that, beneath the rack, her waist narrowed to
an equally amazing degree, and then ballooned into a giant ass; one that
wouldn't have looked out of place on `Pawg of the Month' or `Ghetto Booty
of the Year'.  You can already see where my bachelor online surfing and
general reading habits had been leading me.

   She also seemed to be wearing a skirt that would have been a tent on
anyone else, but that was stretched tight across the big globes of her
buttocks like gummi rubber and finished somewhere around mid-thigh.  Then,
black stockings (or pantyhose) tapered quickly into patent leather court
shoes with decidedly un-Puritan-like 4inch heels.

   As my rapt attention to detail moved back towards the general vicinity
of her face, I recovered my poise (I always knew that those advocacy
classes with the irrepressible Miss Ling would be good for something, one
day) and asked, in a voice I hoped sounded as cool and unflustered as I was
not, "And who might you be, young lady?" for `young' she definitely
deserved to be called, although she was probably in her early forties. 
Face smooth, complexion tanned and flawless, with lustrous black hair that
spilled down to the small of her back in loose coils, and with a touch of
the Hispanic in there somewhere.

   "Well, sir.  I was about to ask you the same question, but you must be
Dr.  Sandsome, of course." She stooped to start retrieving the papers and I
heard the distinct creaking of her clothing as her magnificent tits and ass
shifted in the layers of barely restraining material.  "I'm sorry, this is
your office, sir.  It's just that I didn't hear you come in," she was
smiling up at me now: cheeks polished like walnuts, carmine red glossy
lips, butterfly eyelashes and subtle blue-silver eye shadow.  Nice, very
nice.  This Junoesque creature lowered herself to her knees, virtually at
my feet, and I caught a breath as the true contrast between her top-heavy
torso, her hour-glass waist and spectacular bubble of a butt was entirely
revealed.

   With no more prompting, she continued to explain, "I'm your temporary
Personal Assistant, just until your steady comes back, anyway," she giggled
at something, but I missed it then.  "Miss Palmer, isn't it?  The agency
sent me over after your Office Manager called in the request."

   I found my voice, "I'm not sure we have an Office Manager.  The only
thing I can say with any certainty is that it'll be a woman, if we do. 
Briggs...  ahem," I cleared my throat, "Mr.  Briggs, the senior partner,
doesn't like to mix the sexes in the office.  `Long standing policy.  Ah,
well, so I have a new PA.  And my new PA is called...?"

   I was fishing for a name.

   "Oh sir, I'm sorry.  How silly of me.  My name is Margarita, Margarita
Ramos, but everybody calls me Rita." By this time, she had gathered the
papers and was getting back to her feet.  In an uncharacteristically
gentlemanly display, I reached down and took her by an arm just above the
elbow to help her up.  She grasped my forearm with a breathy gasp and
straightened.  Without the heels, I was guessing she would have topped out
at about 5' 6", and I'd swear that her titties were still jouncing and
jiggling a full ten seconds after she stood erect.  Lovely smile, with the
deepest, darkest eyes, and her heady perfume was all around my face: a
cloud of musk and pheromones.

   "Well, Rita, my apologies for scaring you like that.  You get on with...
ah...  whatever it is, and I'll give you a buzz when I need you."

   "Oh Dr.  Sandsome, I'm just tidying up some files that were left on the
desk.  I'll be ready for you whenever you need me."

   I'd have to say that I found this last utterance mildly erotic, but I
flashed a quick grin and was through the door into my inner sanctum in a
flash.  This was quite simply because I had suddenly realised, standing in
front of her, that my cock was growing inside my underpants and pushing
against the waistband of my trousers.  `Wow, that hasn't happened for a
while,' I reflected, and then grinned lasciviously into the mirror that I
more normally used to check my appearance on the way out.  "Wow, my PA is
`da bomb'.  What a fox!" I whispered to the restored reflection looking
back.  "What an absolute fox!"

   I buzzed her about an hour later, "Ah, Rita, bring a pad, would you
please: some scheduling items for the desk diary and a letter or two to get
out.  I'd give it to someone in the pool, but I'd rather you handled it."
She was there in seconds, closing the door softly behind her, which was
something that The Puritan had never done.  Afraid to be alone in the room

with a fully functioning member of the opposite sex, no doubt.

   "Sit here, Rita." I had carefully positioned a chair facing mine at one
end of my desk - a large mahogany affair that had apparently belonged to a
former President.  Perhaps Wilson had had to keep a Puritanical spinster at
bay too, but times had changed, and fortuitously.  I turned the same
megawatt smile on her that had warmed the hearts of hardened juries and
swayed them to see the corporate view that must predominate in this greedy
world of capitalism.  Her own was open and honest, and then she flushed
slightly, and almost immediately found that a corner of her pad had become
profoundly interesting.

   What had that little flash of vulnerability been about?  My
poker-playing lawyer's eyes again, picking up the subtle lift of an
eyebrow, a glint of dark promise and...  could that have been a mental
skirl of fear?  I was intrigued by this woman.  She was raising all sorts
of feelings in me...  flagging all sorts of conflicting emotions, and my
cock twitched.

   Rita tugged a little at the hem of her skirt, but it didn't seem to
cover much more.  I could see the merest of hint of the selvage on the
round of her upper thigh, and then a whole lot more when she leaned back a
little more comfortably in the chair and crossed her legs.

   My brain in overdrive, `Jeezus, she's wearing stockings.  Nobody wears
stockings anymore, do they?  Well, maybe call girls and whores on 5th.'

   She obviously wasn't comfortable, because she uncrossed her legs, and
then crossed them again, but the other way.  It seemed to take longer. 
`Fuck, I could see the crotch of her panties.  Fuck...  Hey, she saw me
looking.  Oh shit, she saw me looking and slowed her movement deliberately.
Idiot...  but how do I know that?"

   I looked up at her face to find her eyes on the notepad again, as demure
as she had been moments before.  I determined to be more careful, at least
until I was more certain of my ground.  "Ah, Rita.  I feel a little
uncomfortable, just starting in without any kind of foreknowledge, as it
were.  Why don't you tell me something about yourself?"

   She grinned with embarrassment, and then, "Well, Doctor, there's really
not that much to know.  I've been temping for about two years.  Lost my job
at Brownlow's when they started having problems with the compensation
thing." I nodded my head sympathetically.  The Brownlow collapse was
already a case study in law textbooks.  "But this is good.  They keep me in
work pretty much all the time, and it pays better now than it did when it
was permanent."

   "So, Rita, are you hinting to me that we really can't afford you?" We
both laughed.

   "No, Doctor Sandsome," and she glanced around the opulently furnished
office.  The implication didn't require to be spoken, and she settled back
a little further in the chair.  I could see flesh above the stocking tops
now, and she had to know that, because she'd glanced down at her own legs
several times and was even now playing with the end of a black satin strap
that disappeared under the hem of her dress.  I could almost trace the line
of her garter above the peak of the stocking through the material of her
skirt.

   "I have an apartment this side of the river, but I stay with my sister
when I work in town.  Our mother is N*c*r*guan.  I never knew my father. 
He was killed in one of the uprisings or coups, or whatever they call them
when they want to be polite about something that costs people their lives.
We were still very young.  Sorry, I don't want to sound bitter, Doctor
Sandsome."

   "Not at all, Rita, please go on, but before you do, let me tell you that
you were quite wrong when you said you had no story to tell.  I've already
got enough for a biography," stimulated a quick smile.  I encouraged her to
go on, and she leaned forward and placed a hand on each knee.  With this,
her immense boobage seemed to swing forward and push between her spread
arms.  I almost sat back myself, intimidated, perhaps by their sheer size
and proximity.

   "I had to leave.  Everybody tries to leave.  There are millions walking
the tracks and pathways through the mountains, just trying to get away. 
That's why I don't feel that my life is so different from anybody else's,
because it's the same, in so many ways."

   "My sister and I were going to take one of the usual land routes;
walking some, jumping the trains, hitching rides on trucks, but those
routes are all very dangerous, and expensive, and not many women make it
through...  how shall I say...  intact!  Jadi and I were lucky.  We had
enough saved for a passage on a fishing boat and got in that way.  We both
got jobs at first, Jadi as a waitresses, and me as a...  well, you're going
to be shocked..."

   "Not at all, Rita.  I am so very happy that you feel comfortable enough
to be perfectly candid with me.  I value your trust and your honesty.  What
caring person couldn't?  Besides, what you have been through fills a hole
in my knowledge and understanding.  I had no idea...  Now, you were
saying...  you started working as a...?"

   "I worked as an exotic dancer, in a bar in Los Angeles.  It was what
they call a `titty bar'.  I had slightly more of the essential ingredients
than my sister," and she shook her massive rack from side to side and
smiled a sad little smile.  "'Turned out that the owner had a connection in
the immigration office and we both managed to get a card and a social
security number.  I had to stay on at the bar to work off some of the debt
and decided to put myself through school during the days.  I always wanted
to study law, but who's going to take on a spic stripper on a law
programme? Right, no one.  So, I did the next best thing: did a secretarial
course and audited some of the law courses at the same time." She
brightened quickly, "And here I am!

   I tried to adopt a serious, but paternally concerned tone, "Amazing. 
Rita.  Your life is a lesson that I want to learn: that we should all
learn, in fact."

   She was smiling at me again, and uncrossed her legs.  Now I could see
the thin gusset of a red thong, cleaving into the flesh of a very proud
pudendum.  She knew she was flashing me.  "I miss it."

   "What, the classes?"

   She shrugged, resigned, "No...  wow, this is going to sound so weird...
the stripping, actually.  It was my first real job.  It paid great, I had a
boyfriend; when I wanted one that is, and Jadi and I were...  well... 
comfortable.  I could afford clothes and we ate every day.  And...  well
Doctor, I enjoyed the attention, I guess.  Men really like to look at me,
at my body.  Mom used to say it was what my body had been made for,
pleasuring men.  She called me a slut; well, she used the Spanish word,
`puta'.  She used it a lot, but never with Jadi.  By the time I was eleven,
I thought it was my middle name."

   The smile was rueful now, the corners of her mouth twitching with raw
emotion.  "Margarita Puta Ramos...  And I guess what you feel yourself to
be becomes what you are...  Doctor, I have lived under the shadow of what I
am for a long time.  I've not had a man...  not in that way...  for more
than four years.  I've learned to dress the part of the compliant
secretary, when what I yearn for is the freedom to be what I once was.  I
used to dress up sometimes, in my old `working clothes' and just sit around
the apartment, but never dared to go out.  So that's me, Doctor Sandsome,
Rita the slut.  I'll get going."

   I was totally dumbfounded, sitting within a foot of this amazing woman's
incredibly sexy body, breathing in her perfume and the natural pheromones
that mingled with that scent, and it took the time it took for her to get
to her feet for me to snap back into reality.

   "Why, Rita, where are you going?  Why are you...?"

   Tears were dropping unheeded from her cheeks, "Don't worry, Doctor, I'll
find work with another agency.  You've been good enough to listen to me,
and I guess it was baggage that I've been carrying around with me for a
long time - and I just had to put it down.  So, in one way at least, I feel
better.  I'd appreciated it if you didn't tell the agency everything." She
turned again.  I was going to lose her.  Life could be so unfair.

   I went on the offensive and adopted the tone used to force quailing
witnesses to tell the truth, the whole truth, and probably anything but...
"Rita, you will come back here and you will wipe your eyes with some of
these." I grabbed a pinch of tissues of the small nest of tables and
motioned her back into the seat.  "Come back here.  Nobody is going to call
any agency, unless you want to do it yourself.  Now, sit down like a good
girl and listen to me."

   With eyes beginning to widen in a combination of hope and helpless
wonder, my N*c*r*guan Venus, no, Juno herself, turned back and plumped
herself into the chair, taking the proffered tissues and staring at me
unblinking.  Her rack was heaving with her breathing, and she didn't bother
tugging at the hem of her dress now.

   "Now, its your turn to listen.  I'm going to ask you some questions -
and Rita - I want honest answers.  Lawyers are good at telling the
difference between truth and falsification.  All right?" She nodded, "First
of all, did you mean what you were saying about feeling somehow discomfited
with what you consider to be a more staid way of dressing and the fact that
you continue to dream of dressing and acting like a puta, as you once did?"
After a moments hesitation, she merely nodded, her eyes still fixed on
mine. "OK, and would you begin dressing this way for someone...  someone
like me, an employer, if I asked you to do so, even though we have only
known each other for two hours and spent only one of those together?"
Another nod.  "And Margarita, does your desire to revert to being the slut
you were extend to reclaiming the personality and behaviours of a slut -
and not just the outward appearance?" She considered this, her eyes
dropping from mine for long seconds, and then rising again, and another nod
of assent.  "Would you mind if I kissed you now?" the barest hesitation,
during which her eyes dropped momentarily to my mouth, and then she shook
her head `no'.

   I leaned forwards, took her face in my hands, brushed my lips gently
across the tears still running down one of her cheeks, and then gave all of
my considered attention to making this the most sensual first kiss that any
relationship might begin with.  Her mouth opened, our breaths entwined, and
then my tongue met with hers in a riot of tastes and sensations.

   It seemed to last a long time, and I could feel my cock tenting out the
front of my trousers again.  Her hands went, one to my chest, the other to
the back of my neck.  She broke the kiss and moaned into my teeth.  "Oooh,
sir...  Doctor, sir...  I need..."

   "You need my cock in your slutty cunt.  Unzip me, Rita.  I'm going to
fuck you on my desk.  Get your huge fat ass up here..." I slapped the
wooden table top, "...  and spread your fucking legs." I was unstoppable
now.

   As I stood up, Rita reached for my zipper and I heard the zzzzzttt of it
opening, and then her questing fingers reaching through the vent for the
trapped arch of my cock.  Ooooh, doc," she exclaimed, and as her hands
began to run up and down the shaft, bringing it to full erection, "It's
beeeg.  Ooooh yessss...  Big donkey cock for Rita Puta.  Ooooh, momma's
waited so long for thissss..." She was in the act of leaning forward to
take my glans into her mouth when I grabbed the front of her sweater and
dragged her to her feet.

   "No time for that, slut.  I want to fuck your slut cunt.  Get your
fucking fat ass up here." The blood was filling my face as much as it was
my cock.  I felt feverish with lust.

   As I swung her towards the table, the material of her sweater stretched,
allowing me a tantalizing glance at her cavernous cleavage and the curves
of her gigantic titties.  I'd fantasized about fucking a woman like this
since my first wet dream; and now my dream-woman was hoisting her bubble
butt onto my desk and wantonly spreading her legs, her face suddenly a mask
of lust and undeniable passion.

   I reached under the luscious thighs and hauled her towards the edge of
the desk, positioning my throbbing fuck-stick above the place where the
panties disappeared into the cleft of her pussy.  Ever obliging, my new PA
reached down, flicked a thumb under the gauzy material and dragged the
gusset out of her own steaming cunt.  As she did, strands of colourless
syrup thinned and beaded, but remained to connect the sopping panties to
her dripping snatch.  I moved the purpling head of my dick into the warmth
of her slit and slowly sank the first five inches into her, driven to the
brink with desire as her incredible tightness enveloped me.

   I paused, gazing down, as she was, at the awesome sight of her inner
labia, stretching as thin as a pink latex glove around my meat.  I had to
catch my breath, both mentally and physically, mastering the sensations
raging through my groin.  This was why I'd dragged her away from giving me
a blowjob, because I didn't trust myself not to explode in her sucking
mouth.  This was so deliciously depraved that I had to fight my orgasm into
retreat, even as I withdrew slightly, and then slid in another three
inches. Rita grunted, then again.

   I was having trouble bending my knees to get the angle right for
penetration.  Realising my need for an easier position, Rita leaned back on
the props of her arms, and suddenly I could hump the rest of my cock into
the velvet glove of her cunt, bottoming out with about an inch to go, but
forcing it in anyway and prompting this beautiful slut to moan and throw
her head back in delightful submission.

   "Fill me up, doc'.  Oooh yes, fill your puta with that big hard cock. 
Fuck my slutty cunt, baby.  Fuck meeeee..."

   As she began to pant, I had another order, "Take this off," I plucked at
the sweater.  "I want to see your huge slut udders." The thought of laying
bare her giant, jiggling mammaries was tormenting my already inflamed mind,
and I was playing with the idea of tearing it off, but I wanted her to be
the one that revealed her voluptuous body on my command.  She dragged the
sweater over her head and threw it to one side.  Fuck, her breasts were
beyond description, and recognising my fascination with them, she began to
knead and palpate them through the lacy material of the bra.

   "Like Puta's big cow tits, don't you, Doc.  Gonna fuck them later. 
Gonna cream all over momma's milk bags, aren't you, baby.  Gonna pork your
slut's fat titties..." she was beginning to pant.  Her breathing laboured,
but deeply gasping.  "Ooooh baby, Puta's gonna cum now...  Puta's gonna...
Oooooh fuck...  Oh babeeeeiiiii...  Too long...  Oooorrrgghh-aaahh-aaahh,"
and then a series of long, drawn-out gurgling sounds rent the air.

   As she melted into orgasm, her body convulsed, spasming into a richtus
of contorted muscles, arching back and rippling cunt that seemed more as if
she was in the throes of epilepsy than merely cumming.  Her whole being was
involved, one second racked with obvious pain, and the next, mewling
pleasure.  Knowing that she was reaching these heights because of my cock
pounding into her slimy fuck-tube, and feeling the sensations of her climax
jolting through my own body, I began to cum too.  Feeling my cock squirting
mighty gobbets of sticky sperm deep into the sacred sanctum of her body,
Rita, my delicious slut, rolled straight through her first orgasm and right
into her second with only a momentary pause in which she focused on my eyes
for a second and burned me with a passion that smoldered downwards into my
very soul.

   The Ground Rules:

   We were sitting in my chair, talking like giggling ex-virgins after
their first shag.  I had managed to get rid of all my clothes, apart from
my tie for some strange reason.  Rita was still in the heels and stockings,
but her thong had joined the sweater somewhere on the floor and she'd
pulled down the straps on her bra, tugged her incredible tits out of the
cups, one-by-one, and then folded the empty buckets back under the huge
udders.

   I was absurdly pleased to see that her areola were in proportion to her
breasts: dark-chocolate brown side-plate-sized puffies that would have
needed a B-cup all on their own on any other woman.  The nipples were big
too: greater in diameter than the round of my thumb and about an inch and a
half long after I'd sucked them into full prominence.
They sagged a bit, of course, but there was still a titanic overhang of
boob bouncing in front of her when she moved, and they wore that gorgeous
even tan over every square inch.  I was laying back in the big leather
armchair, semi-prone, and Rita was sitting on my lap with her knees pulled
up on either side of my hips and my tumescent cock still deeply embedded in
her volcanic cunt.  I could feel dribbles of pussy-juice and cum seeping
out of her freshly fucked twat and down the wrinkles of my scrotum.  `Let

the cleaners try and work that out,' I thought to myself.

   I was trying to establish some kind of plan.  "Now that I've found you,
I don't want to lose you, so we'll have to work something out."

   "I'm sure that's a good idea, Doc, but aren't there some questions that
I should be asking?"

   "Like what, baby?"

   "Well, like what will Mrs.  Sandsome think when you go home tonight
smelling of juicy slut pussy and unable to wipe the smile off your handsome
face?"

   "Good question, but as there isn't a Mrs.  Sandsome, that isn't going to
happen.  It's fair to tell you that I do have a girlfriend, Tessa.  She's a
lawyer too, at Morley, Brinks and Bettison, but she's going to be on her
own after I call her tonight, so she's a `...did have a girlfriend'." Rita
opened her mouth to protest, "Wait, I can guess - not fair?  Well, it is:
she's the iciest woman I've ever dated, and the only reasons I can think of
for her interest in me is that I'm wealthy, straight and single.  She has
no idea that I like my women like...  well...  you, actually: slutty, sexy
and seductive - and I have absolutely no hope of her ever feeling like that
either.  And call me Phillip, or Phil.  I think we've reached the point of
first names, don't you?"

   She giggled, "OK, so Tessa's gone.  But a man in your position can't be
seen with a total slut on his arm, or even sitting in his office - and
particularly not someone who's only been in this office for a day!  Oooh,
do that again?  It's getting hard.  I think you're been on an Ice Queen
diet for too long, boss." She started to nibble and lick my neck under the
ears.

   "Not entirely true.  We have some very powerful people going through
these offices.  As the most active partner, many of them end up deploying
their power plays against me in here.  Now, if I had a woman sitting
alongside me in a secretarial capacity, dressed just the wrong side of
scandalous, I think it might prove to be a diversion that would rob most of
them of their powers of advocacy.  God, your cunt is delicious.  I can
smell it now.  Perfume de la Puta."

   "OK, so Rita is a diversionary tactic, but how do I get in and out?"

   "You'll wear a light raincoat, but I'm not really concerned about the
office.  Look, it's Wednesday, and we'll have a long weekend because Monday
is a holiday.  I'd very much like you to spend the whole weekend with me.
Call it a test run, if you like.  You see, I think that I want you to spend
a lot of time with me.  In fact, Rita darling, I may not let you go back to
your apartment by the river, nor your sister's either.  I may just lock you
into a pair of handcuffs and keep you under my kitchen table."

   "Well, I like the sound of the handcuffs, but you'll have to let me out
to go to the toilet occasionally; or are you happy with your slut pooping
and pissing in her tight little panties? ...Oooh yes, you are," she started
moving her hips, alternately pushing her huge buttocks down onto my rapidly
stiffening cock, and then lifting again.  "So, Doctor Sandsome, the idea
that your slut might like to shit in her panties and then sit around in
them for a while turns you on?  Oh baby, it turns me on too."

   I had no need to try and perjure myself; my cunt-drilling cock was
letting Rita know that I was suddenly very turned on by the idea of my slut
filling her knickers with her bodily excretions.  I was just trying not to
think too hard or too graphically about it; my fuck stick was already in
overdrive, and I reached both hands around her bouncing buttocks for some
purchase and buried my face between her enormous titties.  Everything about
this startling woman was in motion `God, this is slut-fucking heaven,' I
thought.

   I slowed my pace and surfaced long enough to say, "Rita, you haven't
answered the question: will you spend the weekend with me - and just maybe
the rest of your slutty life?

   "Phillip, I must be twelve years older than you," she panted.

   It was the first time that she'd used my name, and I decided I liked the
way it sounded in her resonant, molasses-sweet voice.  "Not any kind of
problem.  I don't care how old you are.  You're absolutely THE woman that
I've always looked for and despaired of ever finding.  I'm not giving you
up just because you think there's a gap in our ages.  Besides, I'm 36."

   "Well, OK, ten years then...  but this is going so fast, I'm out of
breath with the speed that things are happening at."

   I smirked, sucking a hickey into the globe of an enormous titty just
inboard of one of the chocolate dinner plates, "Me too, but I'm just going
to go with the flow.  If you are the woman I think you are, you will as
well."

   "Oh God, bite my nipples, Phillip.  I love it when you're rough with my
tits.  You like momma's big fat titties, don't you baby?  That's it,
darling.  Suck mommy's fat milkers into your mouth and bite on her chewy
nipples.  Ooooh baby.  You can't hurt me, darling.  That's right, like
that...  ooohhh baby...  mmmmnnnnngh, yeah.  Dig your fingers in baby... 
nnnnnnghgh.  Squeeze them...  Ohhhh Mary Mother of...  Gnnnngggghhhhaah."

   As Rita ground herself into my slut-fucker, her tits did a dance in
front of my face that was mesmeric: swinging and swaying, bouncing and
jiggling.  And my puta was right; I was entranced by her body.  Who
wouldn't be?  So much woman, and she was speared on my cock and fucking
herself rapidly towards another mind-blowing orgasm.  I rode to my own on
the tidal wave of hers.

   The Diversionary Tactic:

   As I got to the office the next day, I was agog to know whether Rita had
come in at all, leave alone dressed in the manner that we'd discussed
vaguely the day before.  I was half expecting her to have got cold feet, or
decided that the way in which I had acted with her was entirely
inappropriate, or even reported me for sexual harassment and was even then
leading a posse of hard-faced, female police officers into the building to
have me arrested and possibly castrated on the spot.  The fact that I'd
tried to call her several times during the evening and hadn't got though
once didn't help with my dark imaginings.

   I shouldn't have worried.  As I walked through the outer office, one of
the typists, Evelyn, called out that Miss Ramos had come in early and got
started on the paperwork for the morning's meeting with Judge Carson. 
Carson was an old friend of the firm and came in on from time to time to
offer his counsel as a legal consultant.  Our only problem was that he had
been getting increasingly doddery of late and his value as a legal eagle
had decreased in inverse proportion to his fees.  It was `my' particular
problem because Briggs had told me to ease him out, but without offending
or upsetting him.  It was unfair to foist the job off on me, but typical of
the way that modern firms work - and part of the reason that I had become a
full partner was my role as a problem-solver.

   As I walked into the inner office, Rita got up from behind her desk and
came to me.  God, but she was beautiful, and today, she had metamorphosed
into the woman that every man dreams of.  Yesterday, she had been
gorgeously voluptuous.  Today, she was the archetypal slut.  My puta.

   The black stilettos had to have heels almost six inches in height. 
Above these she was wearing some kind of very sheer white pantyhose with
small-mesh pink fishnet over the top.  The effect was stunning: the silvery
gleam of the ivory under-layer set off by the matt texture of the fishnets.

   The mound of Rita's crotch bulged proudly beneath the hem of a
ridiculously short white miniskirt; apparently in leather or a synthetic,
which rode low on her ample hips.  The slightly heavier material of the
panty portion of her pantyhose finished well above the belt of the skirt,
swelling slightly across her stomach, and the waistband of a pair of tanga
panties showed pale against the olive skin of her waist.  A blouse worn
above this might have spoiled my view of the white corset that nipped in
her waist, but it was almost transparent, and Rita's massive tits projected
forwards, held in the enormous cups of a white brassiere with very broad
straps that disappeared over each shoulder.  The blouse was so filmy that
you could see the pink piping and stitching in the lace of the bra.

   Her smile was shy; startling, glossy, carmine-rouged lips that I
instinctively wanted to kiss; and her eye make-up was much heavier today,
blues and a sliver grey on the upper lids, fluttering false eyelashes and a
Cleopatra line of anthracite mascara that drew into a point well beyond the
outside corners of her eyes.

   Her hair was put up into a kind of ponytail, with ringlets that coiled
down at the sides like black springs, and big hoop earrings completed the
ensemble.  I think I must have had my mouth open in a kind of stupid,
idiotic fashion.

   "Morning boss, Is this what you had in mind yesterday?" she asked.

   "Rita, this is way beyond whatever I had in mind yesterday.  You
look..."

   "Like a N*c*r*guan slut?" Her smile was inquisitive.

   "I was going to say, like the most beautiful creature I've ever met. 
You look amazing." As I took her in my arms and hugged her body into mine,
feeling those huge udders compressing into my chest and smelling again the
scent of this beautiful creature's body, two thoughts occurred: firstly,
that my cock was springing to attention in record time, and secondly, that
she was almost as tall as I was in the heels.  "Woman, you are just totally
gorgeous.  I want to eat you."

   She buried her face in my shoulder and I could feel her shaking, with
tension, or suppressed fear, I didn't know.  "God, I was beginning to
believe this wasn't real, that I'd imagined it all yesterday and was making
a terrible mistake.  Just hold me for a moment.  I'm getting my breath
back."

   I ran my hands down across her back, feeling the tightness of the corset
lacing beneath the blouse, and then smoothed my palms out onto the globes
of her huge bubble butt.  I felt as if I now knew what the terms `pawg',
`booty' and `the lady's got back' really meant.  "I tried to call you last
night, but I couldn't get through.  I got worried that you'd got buried in
worry and negativity and decided to disappear.  I was really getting
paranoid...  really!"

   "Well, Phillip, I really needed to do some serious thinking, and I guess
I kind-of ignored my phone.  You know, it's funny, but all the time I was
thinking about whether this was a good idea and was going to work, or not,
I was getting out the boxes of clothes and stuff that I'd packed away years
ago.  My sister was like the cartoon angel on one shoulder and my
imagination was the little red devil on the other." She laughed into my
neck, "Every time I got to thinking that this might be a very bad idea, I'd
pull out another skirt or garter belt and think, whoa, I haven't worn this
in ages.  How nice it'll be to walk out in this stripper corset or these
slutty heels.  The more Jadi kept telling me how stupid it was going to be
for me to let the puta out again, the more my worries seemed to fade into
the background.  Phillip, am I doing the right thing?  Are we...?"

   "Oh yes, baby, oh yes.  You know, Rita, I think I fell in love with you
yesterday.  How can that be wrong?"

   She hugged me harder for long seconds.  "That's an amazing thing to
hear, and wonderful for me to know, but you've got to know how to handle a
real slut like me, Philip.  A normal woman needs love - and patience and
stability, and all of those things that you see in the soaps.  A whore just
needs to be used and get paid to be laid, but a slut is a whole different
kind of woman.  I'm different, Philip.  You have to understand how I need
to be treated." It looked like I was going back to school, and my teacher
was going to be this magical woman whose breath was on my neck.

   "Go on."

   You can love me, of course.  I want you to, particularly if we are going
to be spending serious time together; In fact, for me, I think it's
happening already, but you have to be able to control your slut.  You must
be demanding of her; humiliate her if necessary; abuse her when it suits
your purposes to do so.  You must command.  If a puta thinks she's being
given a license to do as she pleases, then she'll start making plans for
herself that might not include her man."

   "It sounds like you're talking about a domme-sub relationship."

   "Well, in some ways, the two are very similar, but a sub has made a
choice to be in that position in that relationship.  A slut is
`constrained' to be in it, by her natural inclination to dress in a way
that cheapens her; makes her external, trashy appearance match her
internalised need to explore the undercurrents of her own sexuality.  A
slut has very complex feelings about why she needs abuse; humiliation; the
catcalls and outraged comments; the feelings of a libertine.  A slut is an
exhibitionist on a lead.  A sub is merely led."

   "Wow, you've really thought this through, haven't you?  I envy the depth
of analysis - I just wish I could maintain that kind of focus when I'm
dealing with cases."

   "Phillip, you have to remember that I've been doing nothing but thinking
about this for years now.  Keeping a lid on my natural desires was only
possible if I could be truly honest with what I am and why I was trying to
subdue those feelings.  Yesterday, you opened a floodgate with one
thoughtful word.  You wanted to "learn" my life.  That's what I've been
trying to do for the longest time.  It's my time now, before all this," and
she glanced down at her breasts crumpling the front of my shirt, "...  gets
past its sell-by date and I'm not capable anymore."

   "Phew, baby.  It seems as if I have a lot to learn..."

   She giggled in my arms, "Well, a slut can be pretty high maintenance -
and you have to be extra careful with how you treat a slut you fall in love
with.  I read somewhere, `Hit her and hold her'."

   "And this is one hot slut that I'm ready to take on right now." I was
palming the globes of her ass now, kneading them with my fingers spread
wide.  "I whispered into her hair again, "So tell me, cunt, how fucking big
is this dirty fucking ass?"

   I felt a shudder run through her, and thought for a moment that I'd
blown it, but she turned her face into mine and smiled.  "That's a real
puta ass," she said.  "That ass is 48 inches around and my thighs are 29
inches around at the top.  You keep squeezing it like that and it's going
to be bigger.  Ooooh yes...  just like that, doc'.  You wanna know how big
your puta's titties are?" She didn't wait for an answer, but put her hands
under them and hefted them up against me.  "Your dirty puta got big
tetonas, baby.  These slutty milkers are 38 triple Hs.  They don't make
bras for these babies.  Rita-slut has to have her bras made special."

   Rita was rubbing herself against me now, breathing hard.  Her eyes were
losing focus too.  "Puta getting real hot.  Doctor Phil gotta fill his slut
with cock so Rita can cum.  Soooo hot for baby-juice."

   I grabbed a handful of the cones of her tits, feeling the hardening nubs
of her nipples mashing in my palms, then kissed her hard as she gasped,
mouth open with the shock.  "You take my cock out, cunt.  You kneel on the
floor, like the bitch in heat that you are, and then you work my cock in
between these fucking huge tits and you get it all nice and wet, so that I
can fuck it into your filthy snatch and knock you up." And that's pretty
much how it went...

   Rita was still in the executive bathroom, touching up her make-up when
the intercom on my desk had buzzed with the news that the Judge was coming
up.  I'd explained the need to get rid of the old guy, preferably as
painlessly as possible, but I added that the end-goal was the thing - any
way to achieve that without causing too much of a scene would be fine. 
Rita had smiled mischievously and told me she'd already thought it through,
and all I had to do was to play along.  "Whatever I do, just keep denying
me the things I ask for." Ah well, what was the founding philosophy?  `Hit
her and hold her?' I'd probably got those two the wrong way around, but
what the f...

   There was a knock on the door and it opened to admit Judge Carson, who
bustled forwards in his characteristically arthritic gait, said, "Ah,
Sandsome," in a creaky voice.  He immediately took one of the ladder-back
chairs that I'd pulled up to the front of my desk, sat and opened a folder.
"I've been reading up a little on this Rocon Corp thing.  Perhaps we should
get straight to it, I have an appointment at the club, later."

   "Certainly, and good morning, Judge Carson.  It's very good of you to
spare us some time." While I smiled through bared teeth, I was thinking
about the fat fee that he was already counting on for this `spare time'
consultation.  "Ah, here's my new secretary, Miss Mendez.  She'll be taking
notes and coordinating our approach with your own PA.  Miss Ramos?"

   Rita minced over to us across the carpet, placing her feet directly in
front of each other as she paced in tiny steps along a single line that
might almost have been drawn on the carpet, exaggerating the swing of her
hips, clutching a clipboard to her considerably rack and smiling through
heavy make-up: the eye shadow, kingfisher blue with metallic silver
highlights and the eyeliner drawn out at the corners into upturned
Cleopatra points.  The skirt still revealed the bulging white triangle of
her pudenda, but she'd changed her tanga thong for a full-cut pair of lacy
white nylon panties and pulled the gauzy blouse down to her waist, not that
it covered anything either, because you could still see every detail of her
pantyhose, the silky thin panties, corset and titanic brassiere beneath the
filmy mesh.

   As the Judge took in the vision, I thought he was going to have a heart
attack right then and there, because his face turned the colour of a peeled
tomato as he stood, and choking sounds came from his throat as her tried to
get out a greeting, eventually managing "Charmed, Miss Ramos.  Charmed, I'm
sure."

   From that moment on, the `diversion' dominated the atmosphere in the
room.  Palpable currents in the slowly building tension, simmered through
the air, suddenly grown thick and hot with the appearance of my Puta.  She
sat demurely, her skirt riding up to reveal the mound of her tiny panty
crotch and the nylon of the sheer white pantyhose spreading tight across
the delicious curve of her mature belly.  As she crossed and then
re-crossed her legs, the crisp sound of nylon on nylon was loud, and then
she would tug ineffectually at the hem of the ridiculously short skirt once
or twice, as if to appear concerned that she might be accidentally
revealing more than a secretary should.  And was she revealing!

   Having initially looked at me in disbelief, the incredulity in his face
asking mutely how I could possibly be employing a woman who dressed so
provocatively, the judge took his seat again and thereafter just couldn't
take his eyes off her legs, his own fingers playing about his mouth and
chin as if to hide the expressions that might be playing there.  In fact,
several times, I had to call his attentions back to the discussion that we
were supposed to be having, but that had been very one-sided thus far. 
Then, Rita began to fidget on her chair with all the signs of a growing
discomfort.

   She gamely continued to take notes, trying to maintain an interest in
the discourse, but it was plain that there was something amiss.  After
crossing and re-crossing her legs again, several times, she then leaned
forwards on her chair and drew her breath in sharply, then spread her knees
wide and huffed an exhalation of air.  As I tried to call the Judge's
attention back to the topic of conversation again, Rita interrupted.

   "I'm sorry, Doctor Sandsome, but I'm going to have to use the bathroom
again.  I'm so sorry.  I won't be a minute."

   Brusquely, I responded, "I'm sorry, Miss Ramos, but we're at a very
important stage in proceedings and the judge's time is incredibly valuable.
You can wait."

   "Yes, sir.  I'm sorry," and she sat back on the chair again, but
immediately commenced wriggling her butt around on the leather seat, as if
something was biting her in the ass.

   "And sit still, Miss Ramos, we have a lot still to do."

   For the duration of another two or three sentences, she seemed to get
things under control, but then began to wriggle again.  Suddenly, there was
the puttering sound of a delicate little fart, and she again leaned
forwards, as if her stomach had knotted somewhere inside.

   The Judge looked askance at me, then back at Rita who was now moaning
softly.  "Perhaps you'd better let her go, Sandsome.  The girl seems
desperate."

   "I'm sorry, Judge, but the girl is always taking toilet breaks and she
needs some disciplining.  Your time must not be wasted in waiting for
someone to spend another hour lolly-gagging in the bathroom, touching up
her make-up and God knows what other nonsense.  We will continue." I turned
to Rita, "Miss Ramos, please read back your last annotation."

   Instead, she turned a blushing face towards me and said, "Please let me
go.  It's coming out..." She shifted her weight onto one globular buttock
and there was another puttering fart.  Her face was an adorable picture of
mischievous desperation; even desire.  "I really need to go, Doctor,
please?"

   My voice must have sounded harsh, "I'm sorry, Miss Ramos, but I have no
patience with your antics.  If you cannot stay here and finish your duties,
I will find someone who can."

   "I say, Sandsome, that's a bit tough.  Why don't you let the girl go
and..."

   I interrupted the Judge, "I'm sorry, Judge Carson, but this is necessary
to make the point.  I will not have this woman constantly avoiding her
duties and responsibilities.  Now, Miss Ramos, please continue."

   Instead of making any effort to read her notes, Rita slowly put the
clipboard down on the corner of the desk and then slid her bottom across
the chair until she was sitting with only one cheek perched on the
cushioning.  She clutched at her stomach, looked entreatingly into the face
of the judge, whose eyes were now as wide as the headlamps on a classic
Buggati.  Then she rolled on her hip and, using a stockinged foot placed
outstretched on the floor with the long spike of heel digging into the
carpet, she levered herself around so that she was kneeling on the seat of
the chair with her breasts flowing over its back and her huge puta ass
sticking up.  Spreading her knees as wide as the arms of the chair would
allow, she arched her back and a rippling fart made the gusset of her
panties vibrate.

   Her voice was dripping with honey and cream.  "I've got to go now,
Doctor.  I'm sorry Judge, but I've got to go right now," and she gyrated
her ass towards where the judge was sitting in frozen amazement.  "Ooooooh
yeah," heralded another rippling fart, this one ending in a liquid kind-of
splattering noise.  "Ooooh yes, I can feel it coming out.  I'm going to
poop in my panties, Judge.  I'm shitting into my underthings."

   With this, there was a sudden trickle of brown liquid that burgeoned
into the crotch of the panties and then ran down the inside of her left
thigh, and then a small bump that quickly became a fist-sized bulge in the
gusset appeared in the crease between her buttocks.  Rita took on the role
of an announcer, describing her slow easing of her bowel like a
play-by-play on TV.

   "Oh, going to do a big poop.  Oh, girlies going to poop her panties
good. Oooooh, it feels so nice.  Can you see, judge?  The turd is big and
fat around.  I can feel it stretching my asshole, like a big donkey cock.
I'm filling my panties with hard logs of shit.  Uuuummmmnnn, smells earthy,
doesn't it judge?"

   The way that she was directing this at the judge was mesmerizing him.  I
glanced away from the vision of my girl's bulging panty to see that the
Judge was beginning to sport a hard-on.  So, this was turning him on too!
Myself, if I had had to stand at that point, I would have done myself an
injury, so, with an inward smirk, I turned my gaze fondly back on Rita's
huge ass.

   As the enormous log was being expelled into the gusset of the panties,
three things happened: the first was that I got my first whiff of the
incredibly earthy smell.  It was at once primal, fecund and exciting beyond
belief.  The second thing that happened was that the moisture in her fat
turd began to soak through the shiny material of the panties, turning them
almost transparent, like tan-coloured latex - and the third thing that
happened was that the first turd broke off when eight inches had been
forced into the gusset, to be immediately replace by the head of the next,
equally large log of excrement.

   Rita continued with her commentary.  "Oooooh yeah, girl not finished
yet. This one's gonna be bigger, Judge.  I can feel it in my guts, like a
shit-baby, coming out.  Oh Jeezus, this one's spreading my asshole thin. 
I've gotta get this one out...  Pussssshhhhing, oh yeah.  Squeeeezing.  Oh
momma.  Is it bigger, Judge?  Are my panties full yet?" She was herself
panting with the effort now, but had risen more erect so that she could
caress the cones of her giant tits through the gauze of the blouse.  She
was really getting off on the whole scene, grunting like a sow and grinning
in ecstasy every time she turned towards the Judge.  "Oh Jeezus, there's
another."

   As the second enormous log-like poo was pinched off by her anal bud and
sank into the gusset of her panties, now bulging grotesquely downwards and
dripping with anal gravy, a third began to burgeon from the gaping asshole.
This was thinner, but softer and very much longer.  It emerged like a snake
from its lair, weaving slightly from side to side as if sniffing the air,
already redolent with the slut's feces.  It touched the slimy material and
then promptly drooped inside to coil on the mound of shit that was already
weighing down her panties and dragging them into a deep curve over the
cleft at the base of her spine.  Indeed, the weight was so much now that
the pantyhose were also being dragged down, pulling on the garters at the
busk of the corset and forcing them to cut into the globes of her awesome
buttocks.

   As the snake detached from her asshole, another followed it onto the
pile, and then she was done, but the show, it seemed, was not over.

   Apparently collecting herself and regaining some kind of equilibrium,
she breathed deeply for almost a minute, gradually relaxing on the chair
until her tits again rested on its back, a waterfall of titmeat, but
unfortunately turned away from me.  The silence in the room was something
you could have gathered it up in handfuls and pushed into a bottle.  The
Judge was a statue, immobile and completely fixated on the lumpy gusset of
Rita's panties.

   My Puta regained her senses and stood, the bulge now hanging well below
the level of her crotch.  The first turd had slid forwards and now lay
directly beneath her pussy.  You could see its outline in the pearly
material, underpinned with brown drools of gravy that dripped down her
inner thighs.  Then, she brushed herself off, tugged once more
ineffectually at the hem of her skirt, picked up the clipboard and her
pencil and, with one glance behind her to make sure that she had the seat
lined up properly again, slowly and deliberately sat down.

   You could hear the splurt and popping that the excrement made as it
filled her cunt and buttock crack, squeezing back up through the cleft
towards the selvage of the pantyhose and forwards to rise into the
triangular panel of the panty at the front.

   She flicked the hair back out of her face, then looked expectantly,
first at me, and then at the Judge and said.  "There now gentlemen, that's
done.  Now, where were we?"

   The Judge exploded...  not in orgasm, but in a tyrannical rage.  He was
almost apoplectic, face so red that it got blotchy, spittle flying from his
lips, standing and gesticulating, first at me, then at Rita, and almost
incoherent with emotion.  "I am utterly disgusted, Sandsome.  You...  you!
You will never see me again.  I am terminating this relationship forthwith.
I have never been so..."

   I seized on the chance, "You are terminating the relationship?"

   "This...  woman...  You just...  I have never seen...  In all my years
on..."

   Then, suddenly, he realised that his erection must be visible (well, not
so prominently, but tenting the front of his suit trousers a little) and
seemed to snap in half, as if the bones and muscles in his lower back had
turned into water.  He went over with an `oooff', turned himself half away
from us, then took off for the door, slamming it behind him and no doubt
flying though the outer offices like a flustered bat.  Rita looked at me in
triumph, and we both burst out laughing, doubling over like Carson had, but
not for the same reason - or perhaps it was.

   "You realize that he said that he was terminating the relationship,
don't you?" I said to my beautiful slut.  "That means that legally, he has
no further business with this firm nor claim on it.  You, my darling, are a
bona fide genius." I bent then and kissed her, long and deep, breathing in
the perfumes of her body and the loamy scent of her shit.  As we broke the
kiss off, she said, "So, I suppose I'd better actually go to the bathroom
now and get cleaned up?" but she was smiling in a questioning way, as if
there were other, more preferable options, and her hands reached for the
bulge in my own fly, her probing fingers finding that my erection had
forced the head of my penis past the belt and under the tail of my shirt. I
kissed her again as she released the buttons of my fly, one by patient one.

   "Not just yet, Personal Slut Margarita Ramos.  I have a sudden urge to
try and shove as much of that shit back into your ass as I possibly can,
and then, when it's all home again, stick my filthy cock into your slutty
cunt and fuck a shit-baby into your womb."

   "Well, there's a thing, boss.  I was thinking pretty much the same," and
with that, she bent her head and took my throbbing fuckstick between her
painted lips, slowly sliding her head down the shaft, her mouth and throat
stretching wide to allow it ingress, and kept going until the whole twelve
inches was buried in her throat and her nose was mashing into my pubic
hair. Idly, I reached down across the curve of her back, palms working over
the muscles of her shoulders, ribs and then waist, and reaching the skirt,
lifted it until I could see the column of her manure filling the crack in
her buttocks and staining the material of the panties like dark chocolate.
It was squeezing out through the panty hose and the fishnets too.

   "Oh yes, darling Slut, This is going to get beautifully messy..."

   THE END

   (C) Dr.  O.  July 2012.