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2MORNING.TXT "One Fine Morning Part-II" (Mf, cons, teen, SPOOF)
This story is based on a previous story of Tammy's. "One Fine
Morning" It seemed to need a little more. It, (like One Fine
Morning",) is in the "Sex education Class" universe. (Someday, I
HAVE to get around to finishing that one.)
Like all the other stories in that universe, it is a spoof. A
MAJOR spoof. This is a story about what life MIGHT be like, if
sex and pregnancy were just considered a normal function like
eating, drinking, and going to the bathroom. (Which it should
be.) In this universe, sex is NOT considered nasty. No matter
what kind. Incest, bestiality, watersports etc., are not only
considered normal, but are actually TAUGHT in school, by profes
sional satyrs and registered nymphomaniacs. These professionals
are looked up to, instead of down upon.
If the idea of young children having sex and (worse yet) enjoying
it turns you off, then skip this story. (Even though all the
people in THIS one would be considered "legal", at least in SOME
states.)
Oh yes, this is definitely NOT "safe sex", as the every idea of
having sex in these stories is TO get pregnant.
NN NN OOOOOO TTTTTTTT IIIIII CCCCCC EEEEEEEE
NNN NN OO OO TT II CC CC EE
NNNN NN OO OO TT II CC EE
NN NN NN OO OO TT II CC EEEEE
NN NNNN OO OO TT II CC EE
NN NNN OO OO TT II CC CC EE
NN NN OOOOOO TT IIIIII CCCCCC EEEEEEEE
DON'T LET YOUR KIDS SEE THIS!
And don't try this at home, these are trained professionals.
You, or someone you love could get hurt, if this isn't done under
expert supervision.
Anyone doing anything, and trying to point to this, as an exam
ple, is full of horse-turds. This is a story. It is not a
recommendation, of something to do. In fact, I strongly urge
anyone even contemplating doing the things suggested by this
story to seek professional help. In a hurry!
Final warning!
This story contains mostly straight sex, between a man and a
teenaged girl, as well as orgies involving more mature females.
It involves incest, even though it is only hinted at in THIS
story. If you're still reading this, you must like such stories.
One Fine Morning, Part-II
(Sexretaries)
An Erotic Story
When I pulled in at work, everyone was arriving. There was
a lot of "grab-ass" going on, as we filed in, but it was all
friendly. Even I got involved, by reaching up under Karen's
short little mini-skirt, and cupping her cunny, as we stood in
line. Karen is a cute little brunette, who works over in
accounting, and we've had fun together before.
She responded by rubbing her crack against my probing
finger, and grabbing a handful of the bulge in my pants. Well
after all, fair is fair!
"Mmmm," she said, grinning, "you keep poking this thing at
me, and I'll have to see if it's real at break time."
"Is that a promise?" I asked, as I slipped a finger inside
her panties, and probed inside her slippery hole. The guard
grinned at the two of us, as I fished out my badge with one hand,
while keeping the other inside Karen's slippery little cunny.
Karen's eyes lighted up at the suggestion, and I was sure
she was going to say, "Yes," when she remembered something. "Oh
Gosh, I'd love to," she said. "But it will have to wait until at
least tomorrow. Shit." By this time, she had HER hand in MY
pants, as we made our way down the hall joined together somewhat
like Siamese Twins; drawing grins from our fellow workers, as we
passed. While we walked, I had the front of her tiny little
dress bunched up; my hand was down the front of her panties, and
you could see the movement; as I stroked my big finger in and
out.
Karen had HER hand down the front of MY pants as well;
teasing my swollen cock with her cool little fingers. We were
standing like this in the hallway, when my boss came by and
noticed us. "Hey Mike," he boomed, "didn't your little girl give
you any this morning? What's the matter with you two? Can't you
even wait until sex-break? I mean, we're pretty generous around
here, letting you guys have four twenty-minute sex-breaks a day.
Some companies only give their employees TWO ten-minute sex
breaks."
Guiltily, Karen and I pulled apart, and I zipped up my
pants, while she straightened her dress. Gosh that was s cute
outfit. Especially on a body like hers. "Gee, I'm sorry we
can't 'get together' at break time," I said sadly. "I suppose
you're already booked up solid for the next week or two." This
was almost a question. I knew that women as cute (and horny) as
Karen usually tried to 'spread themselves around' <giggle> so
they wouldn't be accused of discrimination. I had a similar
problem with the girls in the office. Being fairly handsome, a
basically cheerful guy, and having a nine-inch prick, made me
almost as popular among the women in the office, as Karen was
with the men. The times SHE wasn't booked up, I usually was.
"No," she said, "I'm free. It's YOU that has other
arrangements."
1
I looked at her with a little consternation. I mean, I
usually knew my own schedule pretty well, and I was fairly sure
that I had left THIS morning's first sex-break free. "What do
you mean?" I asked, puzzled.
"Didn't you tell him yet, Dan?" asked Karen, in
embarrassment.
"Tell me what?" I demanded. Dan may be my boss, but that's
no excuse for him cutting into my sex-life. Still, he quite
often did.
I wondered just what it was this time? The last time, it
had been some supplier, where the old biddy had to get laid,
before she would sign the papers. (OK, OK. 28 is NOT all that
old, and "biddy" did not due her justice. At 36-28-36, three
quarters of the men in the office would have fought for the
chance to seal the deal, but Dan wanted one of his best to do the
job. The trouble is, I liked smaller, less-endowed women. And
younger ones too.
The time before that, I had been drafted as the "babysitter"
for the 14-year-old spoiled daughter of an Asian tycoon; while
her father sampled almost every woman in the plant over a period
of almost three weeks. He said he wanted to be sure our workers
"were the best," before he would buy from us. So I got stuck
"babysitting" his oversexed little girl.
Yeah, the "babysitting" I was supposed to do, was to "sit" a
baby in the little girl's tummy, while her father did his best to
broadcast HIS seed among all our female employees.
In spite of the fact that she was a spoiled brat, that had
been fun. The girl THOUGHT she knew all about sex, and making
babies, but I had fun by showing her time after time, that there
were secrets to having sex that she had never heard of. Yeah, I
did my job too. The kid was knocked-up higher than a kite, by
the time "Daddy" got through sowing HIS wild oats. The real
trouble was that Hin Shee wanted to take ME back with her, and
her Daddy tried to pressure my boss into making me go.
No way, was I going to leave. It took some frantic
negotiations, before I got off with promising to visit the kid at
least once a year, and to father as many children on her, as the
little girl wanted. "Daddy" would take care of all the rest.
Right now, our daughter is 2, and I understand Hin Shee's
about to have our first son in about 3 or 4 weeks. Damn! That
means "Daddy" will be insisting that I "cum" out and visit again
in a month or two. The horny old goat wants to have at least 5
or 6 grandkids. All this brought me back to the present.
"OK Dan," I said, "What kind of sex-freak have you stuck me
with, this time?" Sometimes it seems that I don't have any time
left for my REAL job, as Dan tries to get as much dual-use out of
his best employees as he can.
"It's not that, really," explained Dan. "It's just that
you've got to 'break-in' a new sexretary today."
"Oh shit," I said. "What happened to Joan?" For almost
three months now, Joan had been the finest sexretary our office
had ever had. She had just turned 18, when she started, and had
gone at the job with an enthusiasm rarely seen outside of
registered/certified nymphomaniacs and school nurses.
2
I understand that she had once tried out for the Olympics,
but didn't have the stamina. When she DID fuck, she put too much
into it; leaving herself and her partner drained. Not very good
material for an Olympic athlete in the sex-games, but the very
thing a company like ours needed for a sexretary.
Sometimes I daydreamed about having her as my PRIVATE
sexretary, but that wouldn't have been really fair to either her
OR me. Eight of us men shared her as our sexretary, while about
ten women shared Joe as theirs. (Joe WAS a certified satyr, but
was too lazy to work down at a school with hundreds of horny
teenagers. He figured it was worth it, to only have ten to
fifteen horny women to service, instead of the hundreds of sex-
starved teenagers, if he didn't have to make lesson-plans, give
grades, and teach. Besides taking care of his sexretarial
duties, Joe would usually jack-off in his cubicle 5 or six times
a day. Actually, the company figured it was lucky, to get a
certified satyr even if he WAS lazy. If ANY of the girls in the
plant felt she needed a little extra, there was always Joe.)
Anyway, I had just gotten used to having a sex-bomb like
Joan, and now I had to 'break in' a new one? I hoped this
wouldn't be literally, like the first sexretary I ever had, who
had been a virgin. At 19 yet! I know, I thought that NO girl
made it through high-school, without getting knocked-up at least
once by the school satyr and sex-education teacher, if nobody in
her family had done the job by then. Somehow, Mary-Jane had
slipped through the 'cracks'. <har> <har> And then of ALL jobs
for a VIRGIN to pick, she had tried out for sexretary, and made
it.
It seems she faked the requirements documentation, and
actually thought she could fool the men in the office into
thinking she was experienced. As if ANY of us would miss an
intact hymen.
Still, we all felt so sorry for her, that I had been picked
as the best one to "break" her in, and we had all kept silent
afterwards about her lack of experience. After about six months,
the girl had gotten to be pretty good. After her first
pregnancy, she was moved to another part of the plant, since we
already HAD two other sexretaries, while she had a big tummy.
That was where I got my first daughter from. Mary-Jane had
left our daughter with me, as a sexretary's life doesn't leave a
lot of time for raising kids. Besides, she figured I would be
able to give the little girl a better sexual education than she
could. She was overjoyed to hear about Karen being pregnant.
(Yeah, I know. . . Karen at home, and Karen in the office. Just
don't ask me how many "Dave's" there are down here.)
"What happened to Joan?" I repeated.
"Oh, didn't you know?" said Dan, "Joan was 'late' this
morning, so we had to replace her. Your new sexretary is waiting
in your office."
I was too worried about Joan, to care about some jerk of a
replacement. "What happened to her?" I snarled. Joan had been
the best sexretary I ever had, and I wasn't going to let them
throw her out, like last week's garbage.
3
Dan knew this. "Oh don't get so uptight," he told me.
"She's doing just fine; working down in the secretarial pool,
until she has her baby. YOU know we don't lay off sexretaries
when they get pregnant. Why else would we be having sexretaries
anyway, if it wasn't to give the men something to work for? I
mean, there's nothing like knowing that if you continue doing
your work, and stick with the company, that YOU might be the one
lucky enough to plant a baby in the company sexretary."
I knew all this, but thinking about Joan being pregnant, had
made it slip my mind. I wondered if there as a chance the kid
could be mine. I had been incredibly lucky so far, in the baby-
sweepstakes. Two babies by sexretaries, and one by a fellow co-
worker. And I still wasn't even married. (Though, now that she
was barred from being a sexretary, maybe Joan might look on my
suit in a more favorable light. I had to ask her.)
I stopped by my office, on my way down to check on Joan's
'condition.'
Damn! There was a little girl sitting in my office,
obviously waiting for her mother. Shit! It's bad enough having
to put up with a new sexretary, after losing a gem like Joan; but
to have some floozy who didn't even have the sense to leave her
kids at the daycare center, was too much.
I looked at the little girl again. OK, I was exaggerating
about the daycare. The child was obviously past daycare. Still,
she couldn't have been a day over 13, and I privately doubted if
she was even 12. NOT the age to bring along, when you're
starting a job as "sexretary." Heck, the kid probably hadn't
even been to sex-education class yet; let alone had any babies of
her own.
I decided to find out who the kid was; who her mother was;
and send them BOTH packing. I needed RESPONSIBLE help, not some
bubble-brain. Besides, after all that banter in the hall with
Karen, I NEEDED the use of a sexretary. But NOT in front of her
own damn kid! For one thing, I was NOT a certified satyr, and it
was NOT my job to teach sex-education.
"WHO are YOU?" I asked.
The girl looked at me strangely. "I'm your new sexretary,"
she said.
I looked at her barely budding breasts, narrow body, and
flat tummy, and revised my age estimate downward to 12 years old.
Max.
"YOU?" I smirked. "Who do you think you are kidding. Go
home, and grow up kid. We need a woman here, for this job. Now
where's your mother?"
The girl stood up (all four-foot-seven of her) and looked me
straight in the eye. "I am NOT a 'kid'," she said. "I am 14
years old, and have been certified by the state board of
examiners as fertile. Not only that, but I have already PROVED
my fertility twice already, by having my father's baby when I was
only 10 years old, and my little brother's baby a year later. So
don't go calling me a 'kid.' I'm more woman than YOU would ever
be able to handle!"
4
She stood there, barely 100 pounds in weight, but it was 100
full pounds of dynamite! "So, If you don't like me, then say so,
and I'll go where they know how to treat a girl right."
Boy, had I gotten off on the wrong foot!
"I'm sorry," I backpedaled furiously. She might be young,
but she definitely had spunk! ("Or would have pretty soon," I
mused to myself, as I imagined this cute little girl stuffed full
of my cock, with my baby-juice filling her flat little tummy.)
"I've just had a bad day, losing my last sexretary, who I liked a
lot," I explained. "Here, will you forgive me, and we can start
over? Please?"
She looked slightly mollified. "OK," she said, "I'm sorry I
blew up at you too." I invited her to sit down, admiring the
thin, white, almost see-through panties under her short little
skirt as she did so. Well, at least this girl seemed to know how
to dress properly for the job.
"Here's my certificate," she said, as she handed me the
cardboard. "I don't have it framed yet, but. . ." She had
noticed the direction of my interested gaze. The girl started to
pull her dress down, to cover herself up, then remembered where
she was, and what job she was trying to fill. So, she stopped
herself in time, and flipped the front of the skirt UP and spread
her legs a little, so that I could get a better look, while she
continued.
"I only got a 'B+' in oral sex in school, but the sex-ed
teacher told me I was still the best little harlot he had met in
over two years, so at his suggestion I decided to try. . ."
My mind vaguely listened to the girl's description of how
she had managed to land the job of sexretary in a major
industrial factory, while I checked out her credentials. "The
Board of Medical Examiners certifies that Lynda Joe Karahjnik has
been tested and found to be fully functional and fertile. . . By
these presents, let it be known that Lynda Joe Karahjnik has
passed the board of. . . Lynda Joe Karahjnik has shown that she
is able to . . . On this day of. . ." On and on. With a list of
certificates like this, it was a wonder that the girl wasn't
trying out for street-hooker.
Then I looked at her. No, she wouldn't have the stamina for
that. Mostly, only Olympic athletes were strong enough to take
on that tough a job. Only the very finest even tried. For all
the glory and high-pay, not many women could take it day after
day. Not unless they were nymphomaniacs, and THOSE girls were
too valuable as teachers and nurses in school, to go out hooking
on the streets. Sadly, there just weren't enough women of star-
quality, to be streetwalkers. Though Lynda here almost looked
like she could make it, from the pile of paper in my hand. I
looked closer. . . Fertility-rate. . . capture-ratio. . .
libido. . .
WOW! No wonder the girl wasn't a streetwalker. With THESE
stats, she'd probably get knocked-up, her first night on the job.
Even WITH about 20 or 30 guys pumping her cute little belly full
of sperm. Even here, she'd probably only make it for a month or
two, before her tummy started to swell.
5
Still, that's what the whole idea of being a sexretary was
about. A streetwalker didn't WANT to get tight pants, while
keeping her tummy full of babies, was the whole reason for BEING
a sexretary. Lynda had definitely gone into the right line of
work.
". . . so after acing incest, with my brother, and a final
make-up course in bestiality, I figured I was ready to start.
Mr. Jenkins, my sex-ed teacher, suggested I start here," she
finished up.
By this time, I had been leaking pre-cum down my pants-leg
for almost 10 minutes. The thought of this sexy little piece of
baby-factory squeezing the sperm out of my prick, up inside her
fertile young womb, was making me so hard I could barely stand up
to congratulate the girl on her choice of occupations. She
certainly seemed to be designed for the job. I told her so.
"Mmmn, I hope so," she said with a smile and a wriggle that
gave me shivers. By now, she seemed to have forgotten our
earlier discord.
"Do you really think that I. . ." Here, she looked down at
the bulge threatening to burst a hole in my pants. "Ooooh! You
DO think I'm sexy, after all!" she cooed.
She was right. Sitting there in that tight little mini-
skirt, with her see-though panties showing a damp circle in the
center, she was the sexiest thing I had seen since the day my
eldest daughter decided she wanted her first baby to be mine. I
grinned back at her, and ground my crotch in her direction.
"Like to try it?" I asked.
"Ooooh. Can I?" she asked. Then, at my nod, she reached
for my zipper. Ten seconds later, warm silky lips surrounded my
prick, while an agile tongue titillated and probed at the head.
Now diving into the slit; now slurping around the head. This
little girl was even BETTER than I had expected, even from the
rave-reviews of her sex-education teachers.
Suddenly, I was reminded of where we were, and what we were
SUPPOSED to be doing as the clock chimed 10:00.
"Uh Lynda," I said.
"Mmmm-mmm?" She mumbled around the head of my prick.
"We'd better stop, before I cum down your sexy little
throat," I explained
"Mmammt-mmt" she slurped. It didn't take a genius to know
she said "I want it," even if the words were garbled by the thick
prick filling her mouth.
"Uh, wouldn't you rather have this thick sticky load of
baby-juice squirting right up here, inside your baby-basket?" I
asked; as for the first time, I reached down the front of her
slick little panties, and stuck my finger up inside. Was she
EVER wet! I could feel her tight little cunny clamping and
squeezing on my finger, in a manner that almost had me losing my
cool, and wasting this big load of pregnancy-juice down her eager
little throat, instead of up inside her tight little hole where
it belonged.
I wanted my sperm to be the first to squirt up inside her;
as from her statistics, the first load would probably be the last
and only one she ever needed.
6
"Fertile as a turtle, Myrtle" That's what she was; and if I
didn't get my seed planted in her cute little belly pretty soon,
it was obvious she would get someone else to. Damn. I wanted it
to be MY kid inside her, when her sexy little tummy started to
swell.
She may have been 14 years old, but she looked almost as
young as Karen had been, the first time I knocked her up. I
wanted to see this little girl looking like a pre-teen knocked up
by her own daddy, just like my daughter had. It was with great
effort, that I managed to remove my prick from the teenagers
sucking mouth.
"I suppose," she said. "But I like to swallow it too.
Promise me you'll let me do that too?"
"I promise," I said. The second easiest promise I ever
made.
"It's break-time," I said. "Usually, at this time, we all
go down to the 'break-room' where the company has cots set up,
and we all take a sex-break."
"Sex-break?" she asked. "You mean, you all have sex there,
every day? Is it one big orgy? We only had one orgy in school,"
she reflected sadly.
"No," I replied, "this is work-place, not a whorehouse.
though sometimes the distinction is kind of vague. No, even YOU
as a sexretary, don't have to have sex here if you don't WANT to.
In fact, most of the time the guys and girls around here DON'T
have sex during every sex break. Some of us DO have sex, some
don't. Some people jack-off, during sex break, and others just
watch. A few people even sleep on the cots during break-time,
and we try not to disturb them. . . Except for Alice, that is," I
chuckled, as I led her down to the dimly lighted room filled with
comfortable cots. Not really beds, but more like big soft thick
mattresses on the floor.
"Clothing is optional," I pointed out, as we passed two
people making out; him fully dressed, and her naked as the day
she was born. I recognized them as two new hires in
engineering. . . They seemed to be getting along very well.
"Alice?" she prompted me, as we headed for an empty cot,
clear across the room. (If you arrive late, the best spots are
gone)
"Alice likes to sleep, but she wants to get fucked too," I
explained, "she made it clear a couple of months ago, that she's
trying to get pregnant, and wanted as good a chance as possible,
but didn't want to be obligating any of the guys here to being
the father. So she set it up, so she goes to sleep on one of the
cots every day, and then one or more of the guys here will screw
her while she's still sleeping. She never asks, and we never
tell her who it was each time, that filled her tummy with sperm."
I sighed. "We all take turns, even me and Dan; so she'll
never be sure who it is who did it, when her pants start to get
tight."
"Gee, that's SEXY," said Lynda. "I wish I could do that
sometime."
7
"You could, if that's what you really want," I explained.
"There's nothing in the job-description of sexretary, that says
you HAVE to know who's knocking you up."
Lynda looked at me, in the dim light for a second, then
replied, "No. I WANT to know who it is that's getting me
pregnant," she decided. "For example, I want to feel this thing
up inside me RIGHT NOW, squirting so much big sticky sperm in my
tummy, that I'll be having babies for the next ten years."
I had to admire the people who had trained this little girl.
For a youngster, she had a way of talking, that would get a raise
out of a statue.
"Hey! Get in line!" said an angry voice. Then it was
mollified by, "Sorry Mike, I didn't see your companion. I
thought you were another guy who didn't know where the end of the
line was."
"Huh? End of the line?" I looked, and sure enough, there
WAS a line. Snaking back and forth between the cots, was a line
of about 10 or 15 people.
"What's going on?" I asked, curiosity overriding my urge to
get this sexy little girl down on the floor. Lynda seemed to be
willing to wait at least long enough to satisfy her own
curiosity.
"Sue is trying to have a baby," explained Joe, "and she just
started ovulating, so all the boys got together, and we're giving
her a 'baby shower'."
"Oh," I said, and then chuckled. "Baby-shower," indeed! A
shower of baby-juice up inside her fertile tummy. Now THAT was
funny! Of course, I could sympathize with Sue. At 41, she
figured she was running out of time to have a baby, so she'd do
anything to help ensure she got pregnant.
"Baby shower," indeed. I looked down at Lynda to share the
joke, and saw her looking worrriedly back. It took me about a
minute to figure out why, then:
"Don't worry," I assured her, "the only place THIS 'shower'
of baby-juice is going, is up in YOUR cute little tummy, so that
YOU can enjoy my baby growing in there.
"I'd like that," she said sweetly, and kissed me.
Bells rang, whistles blew, skyrockets went off, and the
ceiling fell in. I didn't care; I was in love. The warm sexy
body of the little girl in my arms, the sweet smell of her
shoulder-length hair, and most of all her soft warm lips pressed
against mine, were too much. The next thing I knew, we were both
lying on a cot, still dressed, as I slowly recovered my sanity.
"I'm sorry," she sobbed, "I know I wasn't supposed to do
that, but I couldn't help myself."
"I'm sorry too," I said, holding her shuddering body close.
"Now you know WHY sexretaries aren't supposed to kiss their
fellow workers. They told you about this in school, didn't
they?"
"Uhuh," she sobbed, "But I never thought it was supposed to
happen this fast. I mean, in all the stories, it took several
weeks, and the woman usually had lots of warning, but she went
ahead and did it anyway. You looked so handsome, and sexy and
caring, and I thought one little kiss wouldn't hurt, and now
look!"
8
She sobbed again, before continuing, "I mean, all I KNOW is
being a sexretary, and now look at me!"
I did; and except for her tear-streaked face, she was an
absolute vision of loveliness. I wanted to hold her, and comfort
her, and take care of her, and. . . I was interrupted by a quiet
voice at my shoulder. It was Karen, coming over to see what had
happened to me since morning.
"You two did it, didn't you," she asked, with a sympathetic
note in her voice.
I looked at Lynda; she looked at me; we both gulped, and
nodded.
Karen shrugged. "Well, why don't you two finish it," she
said, "and I'll go start the paperwork going."
"Huh?" asked Lynda. "Finish It?"
"Honey, when two people fall in love, it's not really
complete, until they have sex together," Karen explained, like a
sex-education teacher talking to a 12-year-old girl in heat. I
suddenly remembered that Karen HAD passed the bars for
nymphomania, but couldn't stand the immaturity of teenagers and
pre-teens, so she had ended up working as a streetwalker, until
even that had bored her.
She had finally managed to make a balance between work she
loved here, and working out her sex-drive at night in the back-
room of a bar. We got a good worker by day, and the bar got a
first-class hooker to take the edge off their customers sexual
frustrations at night. It was an unusual solution, but Karen
seemed to be happy. Not for HER the hundreds of sex-mad
teenagers, that was such a pleasure for most nymphos.
Karen prodded us. "You DO want to have sex together, don't
you?"
I looked at her, she looked at me, and suddenly there was a
mad scramble, as we both tried desperately to be the first one
with all of our clothes off.
By the time we were undressed, there was a silent ring of
co-workers standing around us. They all wanted to watch. After
all, it wasn't EVERY day, that they got to watch two lovers
couple for the first time. Not only that, but word soon spread
that we had both not only fallen in love, but she was a trained
sexretary too.
I mean, this just wasn't supposed to happen. Sexretaries
were supposed to be too highly trained, to let themselves get
caught like this. Of course, they were human too. That's why
the 'no kissing' rule. Any and every kind of sex; including many
things that most people would call "perverted" were all in a
day's work for a sexretary. It was her job to relieve the sexual
frustrations, that otherwise might have men and women playing
sexual power-games, where the woman teased, and the man schemed;
until the workplace became a battleground between the sexes,
instead of a place to work. Once sexretaries were mandated, the
battles over "glass ceilings" and "sexual harassment" vanished.
Now, if a girl teased, she EXPECTED to get fucked. On the
other hand, no man tried to force a woman to have sex with him,
for "favors" like advancing in the company.
9
He no longer needed sexual favors himself. Similarly, women
were no longer scared of men making unwanted sexual passes at
them, because they knew that the guy could always call on his
sexretary, if he got hard-up.
Not being pressured, made it a lot easier to DO the things
that otherwise would have been fraught with sex-political
tension. Now a man COULD walk up to any girl in the office, and
ask her to have sex with him, without feeling like an unfeeling
cad.
The girl was now free to say NO, if she felt like it,
because she knew he wouldn't get all sexually frustrated if he
did, and she also felt free to say YES, if she wanted to, without
feeling like a slut and whore. (Yes, back then, those words USED
to have bad connotations. Nowadays, they're considered
compliments, but it wasn't always so.)
For this reason, sexretaries (of BOTH sexes) are highly
valued, prized, AND paid members of a company's staff. Even most
small businesses these days hire "sexretarial services" from
companies that specialize in having sexretarial pools.
The effectiveness of having a sexretary was found to be MUCH
higher, when the barriers to pregnancy were removed. Even
counting down-time for being pregnant and having a baby, a
sexretary could be over twice as effective at removing tensions
if she was fertile, and the workers knew it.
So, sexretaries were trained and schooled, to be willing to
give their children up to the fathers, while the prospective
users of her services had to all agree to adopt any child of
their sexretary that she felt unable to care for.
Not that there was ever anyone who had to be FORCED to care
for an unwanted sexretarial baby. . . Far from it. Every time a
sexretary got pregnant, there were always claims and counter-
claims over whose baby it was, and who would get it. However
THIS was always up to the sexretary herself. SHE got to decide
who SHE trusted to raise her child.
Once she decided though, it was over for her. She got
visitation rights, but that was all. He was that child's father
AND mother from then on, unless his wife adopted it also.
Being so valuable, companies just couldn't afford to have
their sexretaries fall in love with someone in their staff. So
sexretaries were trained to distance themselves mentally from
their charges; even while getting as close physically, as you
could possibly get. That's why kissing was forbidden.
It was too much of an accepted sign of love. Sex,
caressing, back-rubs, etc. These were all OK, but DON'T show any
affection. You like sex. You enjoy sex. You like your clients.
You do NOT date. You do NOT cuddle. You do NOT visit their
homes. You do NOT even go out to lunch with them.
You keep your distance. You LIKE them. You CARE for them.
You do NOT love them.
10
These were all tenets of the sexretarial Bible. And Lynda
had just broken the biggest one, on her very first day. I felt
sorry for her. All her training. . . down the tubes. And the
financials would be quite hard as well. Not only would she lose
her lucrative sexretarial position, but there were penalties in
her contract, if she failed to complete a certain number of years
as a sexretary. Usually, the term was two years, but this could
stretch to as many as ten, with pregnancies being deducted.
Of course, the company wasn't THAT heartless. They did NOT
fire a girl who fell in love with an employee. Just like ones
who got pregnant, there were always positions in either the
secretarial pool, or janitorial staff, or even office "gopher."
Still, the pay was a lot less, and there WERE those penalties to
repay.
Still, looking at the little girl with stars in her eyes,
when she looked at me, it was hard to feel as sorry for her as I
should have. I mean, I was in love too, and to have her look at
me that way, was too awe-inspiring pleasurable for me to feel
very unhappy.
I guess she felt the same way. Besides, when we were
married, she could live off me. I certainly made enough for both
of us, even if I already had three kids at home. Adding a wife,
would finally round out my life.
"Hey! I'm going to have to go back to work in a few
minutes," a friendly voice prodded us. "Are you two kids going
to fuck, or are you just going to stare at each other all day?"
A round of chuckles greeted this question.
I suddenly realized that Lynda and I had been doing just
that: Staring at each other's naked bodies, for almost 5
minutes. We both grinned, and reached for each other.
It was like a shock. SOOO sensual. We kissed again, and
the top of my head blew off. I was in heaven. Suddenly, I was
yanked back to reality, as the touch of her cool little hand on
my aching prick almost had me spouting thick sticky sperm all
over her hand, instead of up inside her, where we both so badly
wanted to feel my sperm getting her pregnant.
I grit my teeth, and managed to hold on somehow, as she sank
back on the cot, and I found myself between her legs.
It's a good thing her father did a good job of breaking this
little girl in, as otherwise my swollen prick would have ripped
her wide open. I'm not small, being over nine inches long, and
thicker than most guys I know. I wouldn't have been able to hold
back now, and neither would Lynda, even if she HAD been a virgin.
Thank God for horny little brothers, and loving Daddies, I
thought, as I slid home inside her. I didn't expect to last more
than 2 seconds inside her tight squeezing little hole. Neither
did she.
And Lynda WAS tight. In spite of having two kids, and
fucking her own father since she was nine, she was tighter inside
than anyone else I had ever known. Most sexretaries ARE tight;
they sexercise to stay that way. Still, Lynda was tighter inside
than even Karen had been, the night she first climbed on top of
me and had me "Teach her how to make a baby."
11
Surprisingly, once I was properly inside her, I was able to
slide in and out without splattering her sexy little tummy full
of seed. I wanted to enjoy this fuck for a LONG time. So did
Lynda. Well, we tried.
We were actually doing pretty good, sliding in and out, with
my big prick leaking baby-making sperm inside her tight little
hole, when we made the mistake and kissed again. I don't know
who taught her that, (They surely don't teach you how to kiss at
Sexretarial College.) but she stuck her tongue between my lips,
on into my mouth, and started licking my tongue!
It was like a blow to the back of the head, and then like a
kick in the shorts, as My overstimulated penis began sending
stream after stream of warm creamy cum up inside her hot little
hole. Pulse after pulse rippled through my prick, and I
shuddered and shook on top of her, trying to force as much of my
body as I could inside her, so my sperm would have a better
chance at getting inside her womb.
I was just starting to slow down, when the pain hit me.
Lynda was trying to tear my hear out by the roots! Or so it
seemed for a second. She pulled on my hair, and screamed and
wailed, and clamped down on my prick so hard I though it was
getting cut off. Never have I even SEEN a woman have an orgasm
like this. Let alone feel her shaking and grunting and yelling
underneath me, when she did so.
Her frantic squeezing kept my prick erect enough, for Lynda
to finish her orgasm, before it wilted. Then, like a man
stripping the last drops of milk out of a cow's teat, I felt
ripples of her internal muscles milking the last sticky drops of
sperm out of my cock, as it slowly deflated.
I looked down at her, and saw the intense concentration on
her face, as she did so. THIS was obviously something she had
trained herself to do. Or perhaps they taught it now, at
sexretarial school. In any case, it added to the thrill, to know
that every drop of my sperm was being extracted into her tight
little hole where it belonged.
When I finally pulled out, there was only the tiniest drop
of white puddled at the end of my prick, and only another tiny
drop oozing from her bare little pussy. I hadn't noticed before;
but she kept her pubic hair shaved, (Not all that uncommon for
sexretaries.) and with her youth, she looked barely older than my
youngest daughter, let alone Karen.
My introspective musings were interrupted by clapping and
cheering, as the whole company started congratulating the two of
us for our spectacular performance.
Then the crowd broke up and returned to work; leaving me
cuddled up to Lynda. (Yes, another no-no for sexretaries, but we
were WAY past that now.)
I was finally able to extract myself from Lynda's arms, as I
regretfully announced, "C'mon, we've got to get back to work. . .
Or at least I do. We'll have to figure out what YOUR job is
going to be, now that you're out of a job as a sexretary."
We both groaned, as we got up.
"Oh no you don't," said a familiar voice.
12
"Huh?" I said not very intelligently, as I saw Karen and Dan
approaching us with a thick sheaf of papers. "Oh no," I thought,
"He's going to saddle me with all the paperwork on this! Oh
well, serves me right."
I was wrong. "Here," said Dan, shoving the sheaf of papers
at me. "They're all filled out, including her transfer to your
department. From now on, Lynda is YOUR private sexretary. How
does THAT grab you?"
Dan beamed at me. "I've been wondering for years, how to
trap a horny old goat like you into staying here permanently," he
gloated, "and now I think I've done it."
He sure had. If he could do this for me and Lynda, how
could I EVER desert his company for somewhere else. Besides, Dan
always paid me more than any of those other jerks would anyway.
"Well, what are you two standing around for," he asked.
I was about to head back to my office, when he amplified,
"Go on, get on home, both of you. Get married, get pregnant, get
happy, get whatever."
"But what about my work?" I asked.
"Screw your work," he replied, "didn't you see the papers I
gave you?"
We obviously hadn't.
"You're both on 'maternity leave' for the next two weeks,"
he chortled.
"MATERNITY leave?" I don't know who was more astonished at
this: Me or Lynda.
"Sure," he said, still chuckling, "You ARE going to be
making a mother out of her, aren't you? If that isn't
'maternity' then I don't know what is."
We both were too embarrassed at his generosity to say much,
but Lynda figured out a way to thank him. She gave him a kiss,
that made his eyes light up like mine had. We both knew she
wasn't in love with HIM, but he HAD earned a portion of love from
both of us. For sure, he would always be welcome in our bed, any
time he happened to visit. I tried to tell him this, without
sounding like I was trying to push him into bed with my wife.
(Gee, I was already thinking of Lynda as my wife, and we weren't
even married yet.)
Thankfully, he took it seriously. "AFTER her period stops,"
he said in agreement. "Now get out of here you two, before I put
you both to work."
We got.
It isn't even noon yet. I wonder what Karen is going to
think when I bring her home a mother, that's only two years older
than she is, but looks at least a year younger?
Whatever. For sure, the old bed is going to squeak at
night. Going to work is going to be fun too.
I suddenly remembered that I had forgotten to check up on
Joan. I wondered who Joan was going to pick as a father for THIS
baby. I knew I had a fairly good shot at it, as there was a good
chance the kid was mine, and I knew she liked the way I was
raising my other three. Especially, if it was a girl.
13
Oh god, what a delightful thought! Karen's going to be
delivering in about another three months. Joan just MIGHT pick
me for HER baby's father. Lynda should be pregnant right now, or
for sure she will be, in a month or so. And in about a year or
so, Judy will be old enough for Jason to knock HER up. We could
have LOTS of babies around the house, in just a few years.
I love babies. I also love little girls who give them to
me. I love big families. I guess I love pregnant little girls
most of all.
Isn't it wonderful, to be surrounded by what you love, and
those you love?
14
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