Literary Erotica
by Lord Malinov

I was working for the government and someone hired a Puerto Rican secretary named Tilli. I was in the prime of my youth and she was ten years older than me, so I paid her little mind, wholly distracted by my pretty woman peers. Somewhere along the line, Tilli developed a crush on me, dropping by my office to offer help, staring as I passed by, making salacious comments from time to time. I was used to feminine attention and smiled kindly when I met her in the elevator or lunch room.

A year of her mild sexual harassment passed me by with little more than a good-natured laugh.  She would ask my help with tasks that require I bend over and would titter with glee when I did. There is a price to being attractive and I routinely paid my dues. Tilli was nice enough and almost pretty and who was I to take away the little pleasures she derived from objectifying me.

There were constant invitations to grab coffee or lunch or dinner, all of which I refused gently. I’m a very private person and generally eschew companionship, preferring my books to casual conversations. I was flattered by her admiration but I paid it little mind.

One glorious Friday in the spring, when everything was suddenly warm and blossoming, I went for a long lunch with a friend from the FCC. We took a walk through the park that cuts through north-west DC, smoking joints and enjoying life. We stopped off at one of Capital City’s naughtier strip clubs and watched the girls disrobe and spread before the howls and cat-calls of a lunch drunk crowd, packed with military youth, bored bureaucrats, lusty legislators  and international ambassadors. I went back to the office, ready to wait out Friday’s demise and felt good.

So good, in fact, that when I ran into Tilli in the copy room, I invited her to join me for coffee. What the hell, I thought, it was only coffee. Twenty minutes of chit-chat might be fun, I thought. I was hardly myself that day.

“Sure,” she said.

I told her I would come get you when I’m ready to go downstairs and I went back to my office to do something trivial but necessary.

Someone knocked on my office door and I told them to come in. Tilli stepped inside, closed the door and locked it. I’d seen it happen in movies but it is a strange feeling when it happens in real life.

I cocked my head, waiting to see what was on her mind. Tilli sat down on the chair in front of my desk and smiled lewdly.

“What’s going on?” I asked naively.

“I want you so badly,” she began. I’m sure I looked a bit confused. She picked up the hem of her dress and laid back slightly in the chair, pushing her exposed panties toward me. I’m sure my eyes went wide as she lifted her butt and slid her panties down her thighs, over her knees, down her calves and past her thighs. Tilli slid down a bit further and spread her cunt wide. Two fingers slid down the crease of her dark labia and disappeared inside her vulva.

“Are you going to report me, for sexual harassment,” she asked as she slowly masturbated before me.

“That wasn’t my first reaction,” I replied dryly.

“So you don’t mind?”

I honestly couldn’t imagine a world where I would object to an attractive woman dropping her knickers and playing with her pussy.  I assured Tilli that it was okay with me if she wanted to expose herself to me.

“I’ll do anything you want. I’ll be anything you want. Use me. Take me. Enjoy me. I want you so badly. Let me be your mistress, your sex toy, your play thing.”

Of course, while she said those things, she was still plunging her fingers into her wet cunt, breathing deeply, sighing, moaning, twisting and twitching and all the while staring at me with soft eyes, pursing her lips and shivering with a stream of orgasms.

I had no words. I had no real interest in this woman. I had no need for a paramour. I certainly didn’t need an office affair to complicate my already complex life. At the same time, I was staring down the barrel of a hot, lusty cunt. I probably nodded.

“Meet me tomorrow at the hotel bar across the street. I take lunch at 1pm. Please be there. I want you so badly.”

I was probably still nodding when she reached into her pocket and took out a photograph. She handed me the picture and dashed out of my office.

It was a photo of Tilli, about ten years younger, completely naked and splayed out on a bed.

So I met her at the bar. The rest was a catastrophe.


About David Cain

David Cain, literary author, bon vivant, rogue romantic poet - author of Witch, Song of Songs, Journals of Lord Malinov, Erotic Romances and others ...
This entry was posted in books, cannabis, erotica, fiction, literature, literotica, personal, short stories, writing and tagged , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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