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 Archive name: Richard.txt (mf,drunk)
 Authors name: rodsti@hotmail.com (Rod Stiffener) 
 Story title : SCREW YOU TOO, RICHARD
  
 -------------------------------------------------------
                  (c) Copyright 1998
 This work is copyrighted to the author, with all rights
 reserved. -- This work may be archived and displayed on
 non-commercial web sites without permission, but please
 do not remove the author name or address. Thank you
 -------------------------------------------------------

 SCREW YOU TOO, RICHARD
 by Rod Stiffener (rodsti@hotmail.com)

  
  It was time for our annual office Christmas party.
  
  Hmmm ... I know what you are thinking.  You're think-
 ing, "How many times have I read THAT in a story as a
 pretext for naughty goings-on?"
  
  But consider the circumstances of these affairs.  It
 is the end of a hard year. Everyone wants to let their
 hair down.  Large quantities of alcohol get consumed.
 
  People who have secretly fancied each other all year
 finally rake up the courage to do something about it.
 You'd be surprised what can happen!  I know I was.


  Sue worked on the floor above ours, though we were all
 part of the same organisation.  She was an accountant
 in the administration section.  Bubbly personality,
 very out-going, and very intelligent.  Also pretty,
 with dark hair and dark eyes.   She was confident and
 in-control of her life, and living happily in sin with
 a chap who seemed to spend most of his time planting
 trees on an out-of-town homestead that they had pur-
 chased together.
  
  Me and the other folks in my section got on well with
 Sue.  We had a social volleyball team which she some-
 times joined in with.  It was entertaining to see her
 play, because although she was petite, wasp-waisted and
 fairly compact in stature, she was well-endowed in
 front.  Not loose floppy ones that swung about, I mean
 firm, high, round breasts that bounced when she bounced
 and which gave her a top-heavy look.  Her unofficial
 nickname among the guys was Wonderwoman.  She could
 equally have been nicknamed Brainbox, or Mega-Memory
 (since she was both of those too), but funnily enough
 Wonderwoman was the name that stuck.
  
  She took it in good humour, and didn't seem at all
 fazed by what God had given her.  She had her own no-
 nonsense way of dealing with any unwanted attention.


  Back to the party.  Things were only just warming up.
  My section had formed a clique in the corner around a
 low table and were playing a drinking game called
 "Mexies".  It involved throwing dice, where the numbers
 that came up determined whether or not you had to
 skull your drink on the spot, and if so, how many
 drinks you had to skull.  
  
  All very democratic and a source of much amusement,
 but unfortunately it does not take into account dif-
 ferent capacities for alcohol.  I personally have a
 considerable biomass advantage when it comes to absor-
 bing alcohol, but Sue is petite, remember?
  
  Sensibly, she took a break from Mexies and came and
 stood beside me in the corner.  Stewart was telling one
 of his "pig" jokes, which are pretty gross and some-
 thing of a specialty with him.  I mean, in how many
 situations can a human fuck a pig without the plot get-
 ting stale?  But he could always surprise us with new
 twists on that theme.  
  
  Sue turned to me and casually asked, "How's your sex
 life been lately?"
  
  Well, that's pretty upfront as an opener for conver-
 sation!   
  
  I didn't know whether it was typical volleyball-team
 banter, or had deeper meaning.  But I took it at face
 value and replied "Non-existent".
  
  Which was true.  I was, how shall we put it, "between
 relationships" at that time.
  
  "And how about yourself?"
  
  She looked thoughtful.
  
  "A bit slow.  I never thought I would get jealous of
 some trees."
  
  It seemed that their homestead was a bit far out for
 an easy commute, so she stayed in town for the working
 week and joined her Flower Child partner on weekends.

  Well, another "pig" joke was reaching its inevitable
 climax, to the sound of much laughing and some gagging,
 so this sort of changed the subject.  
  
  And then the Karaoke got started, with our Vice-
 President being dragged to the microphone to perform
 "I did it my way" as an opening salvo in the singing
 wars. Just as well most of us were drinking heavily,
 we certainly wouldn't have stayed for the music.
  
  A Karaoke list was being handed around the room,
 whereby people were supposed to write down their name
 and the name of the song that they wanted to sing.
 Except that high-spirited individuals were writing
 down the names of other unsuspecting people and pairing
 them with the most dreadful songs imaginable.  
  
  Both kinds of dreadful songs.  Country, AND Western!
 
  So the poor Karaoke compere would announce a person's
 name and song over his mike only to be met by a hail
 of empty beer cans from some of those named.
  
  Inevitably my name was called, along with the song
 title "I walk the line" by  Johnny Cash.  Well, I was
 going to put a stop to that.  I took the mike, and as
 the backing track for "I walk the line" was played, I
 bellowed over the top of it the words and melody for
 "House of the Rising Sun" by the Animals.  People had
 their hands pressed over their ears and anguished looks
 on their faces, but I callously continued right to the
 end.  There!  Nobody should pull a stunt like that on
 me again!
  
  Back to my corner, and there was Sue.
  
  "Good one.  You really butchered THAT tune."
  
  "But enough of my talents," I answered modestly.
 "How was your year?  Was it a fruitful one?"
  
  I took a moment to admire her neckline, where her
 boobs bulged upwards to almost meet in the middle.

  "So-so.  Basically, my boss sucks."
  
  Yes, I had heard about Richard.  A more mean-spirited
 individual would be difficult to imagine.  I listened
 sympathetically as she told a few stories about deeds
 he had done or neglected to do, which left his staff
 wondering why they ever bothered.  The best one was
 about poor Warren, a long distance runner of no mean
 repute, who had applied for leave to go to an overseas
 Triathlon event that he'd spent weeks training for.
 The week before departure he had his leave cancelled
 because he was "needed in the office".  And it turned
 out that the need was slight, he could easily have
 gone.
  
  Sue was waxing recklessly lyrical about this Richard,
 tongue loosened by drink and not caring who overheard
 us.  Then she lowered her voice and drew closer to me.
 I got an even better look at the upper portions of
 breasts that defied gravity.
  
  "You know what I'd like to do?"
  
  "No, what?"
  
  "One of these days, I'd like to leave a nice juicy
 wetspot in the middle of his desk blotter."
  
  Fuck me dead!!!  
  
  This was strong stuff indeed from normally-bubbly,
 happy Sue!
  
  "And your significant other?  Will he be your accom-
 plice in this dastardly plot?"
  
  "Haven't asked him.  But the thought of doing it has
 cheered me up during my darker moments in this place."

  Hmmm.  Some fantasy.  That was a new one on me.
  
  Anyway, others barged in at that moment and dragged
 Sue up to the Karaoke for a group rendition of "Stop,
 in the name of love!"  I had a chance to stand back
 and watch her shaking it all about within the tight
 confines of her short summer dress.  
  
  Summer, you say?  At Xmas?  Well, of course!  This
 story is the Southern Hemisphere, and we have things
 back to front down here.  Awright?
  
  Later on, I was coming back from having a pee when
 Sue grabbed my arm and steered me into a waiting
 elevator.  Not too steady on her feet, and with a wild
 look in her eye, she said "Let's do that wetspot!"
  
  The doors closed and she pressed the button for the
 floor of her section.  She still had my wrist in a
 tight grip.
  
  "Let me get this straight.  You want tonight to be
 the night, and me to be the accomplice?"
  
  "Yep!"
  
  "I'm single, but you're not.  You don't have a problem
 with that?"
  
  She looked me straight in the eye.
  
  "Not tonight I don't."


  
  The elevator doors opened to the darkness of the
 closed-up Accounts section.  The place was as quiet
 as a church.  The glow of lights from other buildings
 outside lit our way toward Richard's office, as Sue
 pulled me along by my arm.  Inside, she closed the door
 and turned away from me.
  
  "Unzip me."
  
  I did.  She pulled that dress right up over her head
 and dropped it onto an armchair.  In the dim light I
 could see shapely hips, a narrow waist, and big round
 boobs held up by a thin, flimsy-looking bra.  She took
 my hand again, and put it on her breast.
  
  "Come on, get me good and wet."
  
  Its not often that I get to grapple with breasts like
 these.  They felt as firm as they looked.  I glided my
 hands over them, made circles around her nipples, tried
 grabbing them in big handsful, then lightly pinched the
 ends a few times. She reached around and unsnapped the
 bra, and I pulled it down off her arms.  Her breasts
 hardly dropped as they were released.  I bent and
 sucked a teat into my mouth. It felt stiff and rubbery,
 and I gave it a good tongue-lashing as my hands wan-
 dered to her crotch.  I stroked circles onto a firm
 buttock while one finger of my other hand slid over
 her panty-covered mound to trace along the crevice at
 the top of her legs.  Things were starting to soften
 up down there, as my finger dragged the gusset of her
 panties across her pussy lips.
  
  She started undoing the buttons of my shirt, and un-
 buckled my belt.  I let her go on tugging at my cloth-
 ing while I fingered her and transferred my sucking to
 the other nipple.  I had to let go of her while she
 pulled my shirt off, and I took my pants and shoes off
 myself.  She took the opportunity to get rid of her
 panties, then she rearranged Richard's desk.  Swept
 the pen holders and photo's of his kids to one side,
 and pulled the desk blotter toward the outer edge.
 The blotter was a leather-bound slab of large-size
 paper, just perfect for soaking up fluids.
  
  Sue sat up on it and leaned back.  I moved an armchair
 across so that she could put her feet up on its arms.

  "Okay buster, get licking," she said.
  
  I knelt on the edge of the armchair seat, and bent to
 my task.  Her legs were up, bent at the knees, and
 widely parted.  I started from about mid-thigh, softly
 kissing the warm smooth skin of her inner legs, making
 little licks and swirls on it with my tongue.  I moved
 to the other leg and nibbled my way further upwards,
 where a dark-haired honeypot was waiting for some
 attention.  Reaching the tops of her thighs, I stopped
 further progress and licked at the hollows of her inner
 groin at the base of her buttocks.  
  
  A sexy musky odour was reaching my nostrils, and I
 inhaled it deeply and closely but without touching
 anything there. She could probably feel my warm breath
 blowing on the sensitive skin, and would be craving to
 be touched.  But not yet.  I skirted the really ero-
 genous bits and moved higher, to glide my tongue up
 the sides of her mound and tangle it in her bush of
 dark hairs. She was very quiet and concentrating hard.
  
  I was enjoying the smell and texture of her.  Some
 guys say it's like fish, but that isn't even close.
 Few things smell as heavenly as this, and fish is
 certainly not one of them.  
  
  My tongue danced along the sides of her slit, teasing
 the soft folds and flicking in between them.  Sue lay
 right back down on the desk, tipping her pelvis up to
 give me full access from arsehole upwards.  I licked at
 the sensitive patch of skin between each orifice, then
 upwards in stabbing movements that thrust into her like
 a little cock.  Things were getting moist, a combina-
 tion of my saliva and her own natural lubricants.
  
  Now the moment she has now doubt been waiting for.
 Forming my tongue into a sharp point, I circled the
 hood of her clitoris a few times and then homed in on
 the centre.  She was apparently one of those women who
 have a protruding clitoris, at least it was protruding
 right now and I could feel it under my tongue without
 having to pull back its protective hood.  The first
 time I hit it, she gave a jolt.  Then her hands were
 holding my head, using me like a utensil, directing my
 flicking tongue to the preferred spot.
  
  I got one hand up under my chin and stuck my index
 finger into her entrance.  I penetrated her with it as
 far as I could, so that my tongue was whirling over her
 clit and my finger thrusting simultaneously into her
 warm velvety passage.  My little finger was able to
 tickle her arsehole at the same time.  Looking up, I
 could see her face framed by twin peaks that sat high
 off her chest, nipples puffed up with arousal.
  
  We carried on like that for a good ten minutes, while
 she skillfully manipulated my head to build herself up
 then back off again, prolonging things to the stage
 when she couldn't stand it any more. She came silently,
 none of your corny porn-movie "oohing" and "aahing",
 but she came violently.  I felt the contractions of
 her vagina around my finger, and she was raising her
 bottom trying to thrust herself against it as the rest
 of her body shook and her boobs quivered with her
 spasms. There was quite a lot of squirming and wrig-
 gling before she was done, then she locked her thighs
 around my head to hold me away from her.
  
  When she released me from her scissorhold, I moved
 back to view my handiwork. In the dim light I could see
 pussy hairs plastered against her outer lips, and a
 dewy glistening to the soft folds themselves.  Running
 my fingertip along her gash and down into the join of
 her buttocks, I could feel a coating of slickness all
 around.  So far so good!
  
  "Okay, its your turn" she said.  "Poke it in me, but
 when you come, I want you to come ON me."
  
  "Make me hard first" I said, standing on the chair
 between her legs.  
  
  She sat up and found my fairly-erect prick looking her
 straight in the eye.  She gripped my shaft and her lips
 closed around its head.  Just a slow gentle suck to
 stimulate the nerve endings a little and encourage as
 further rush of blood to that region.  I reached down
 and fondled a breast, fingers flicking over the end of
 her nipple.  In only a few moments I was so hard it
 felt like bursting.
  
  "Lay back."
  
  She did, and I mounted.  I stood over her using
 straight arms to hold myself off the desk as my cock
 bumped between her legs and found her entrance.  It
 was wide open and very slippery, so I sank in with
 ease.  I couldn't make big thrusts without getting
 off-balance, so she started meeting each thrust and
 soon we had struck up a quick rhythm which was tickling
 my cockhead quite nicely.  She wrapped her legs up
 around my buttocks and used them to pull her pelvis
 against mine.  You have to be pretty physically fit to
 keep that up for very long.
  
  Her pussy was soooooo delicious!  Moderately tight
 and very slick, it seemed to suck at me as I moved in
 her.  I could see her face staring up at me in the
 gloom, and big round breasts sitting firm and high.
 They jiggled back and forth in time to our rhythm.  I
 could sense that familiar feeling starting to rise and
 I wanted to move quicker, so I got down on my elbows
 and gripped her shoulders so that I could do some
 serious humping.  She stuck her warm, wet tongue in my
 ear, then whispered,  "On me, remember!"
  
  Yes ... well ... this will be a test of will power.

  When it came down to it, I let the first spurt go deep
 inside her, because it just felt too good.  But I pul-
 led out for the others and held my cockhead right
 against her hairy entrance, jacking myself off to wring
 out every available drop.  Most of my load was dumped
 on those pretty pink lips, from where it dribbled down
 to the join of her arsecheeks.  When I had stopped
 spoofing on her, I used my glans to spread the white
 sticky stuff into the hairyness of her outer cunt lips.
 I sat back to see what I had done, and in the dim light
 could see clots of my semen on, between and within her.

  She seemed most pleased, sitting up to see for herself
 and test the mess with a delicate fingertip.
  
  "Now, the big moment!" she exclaimed.  Sitting forward
 to apply her tush firmly to the desk blotter, she wrig-
 gled around until everything on her fanny was well and
 truly smeared into the blotter.
  
  She got off, and we had a look. Even in the dim light,
 it was really obvious. A moist wetspot about six inches
 across, with enough cum and pussy juice in it to dry to
 a yucky yellow colour.  And when we bent forwards and
 got our noses closer, we could smell just what it was,
 too.  Perfect!  
  
  Richard was in for a real surprise in the morning when
 he came in to work.
  
  We retrieved our clothing and straightened ourselves
 up.  A last admiring look at our sticky calling card,
 then we walked hand-in-hand back to the elevator.

  As the doors closed to whisk us away from the scene
 of the crime, she clutched my bottom and gave me a kiss
 on the cheek.
  
  "I've heard of "say it with flowers," I said.  "But
 not say it with a wetspot. What are you saying with
 your wetspot?"
  
  "Whaddya think?  I'm saying, "Screw you too, Richard!"

 Comments to: rodsti@hotmail.com (Rod Stiffener) 
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