Deborah Pt.1. Meeting my father’s new secretary
Before this day I’d always known of her as ‘Debs’. I’d never actually met her, but I’d heard all about her - and in minute detail as it happens – first hand from my Dad. You see we were like best mates, we’d watch the football together, he’d come and watch me when I played, we’d play rock music together and we’d chat about girls too.
He’d started to mention ‘Debs’, or Deborah, to me recently whenever we’d got to talking about girls. Usually I’d be talking about Rachel or Joanne and how I fancied them rotten and how they’d flirt, but neither of them would actually go out with me. I was your typical frustrated 17 year old...And then he’d share his own little experiences of the women in his life (other than my mum, that was!).
More recently, that had usually meant, Deborah, his new young secretary. It was my father himself who appointed her. ‘Not the best candidate from a qualification or experience pov, but certainly the best looking!’ he’d joked. From what he’d told me, she could have been a Page-3 model. ‘A dead ringer for Donna Ewin’ he’d say, a statuesque, long-legged, dusky brunette with a voluptuous chest, was how he’d describe her.
He would tell me how she was fond of wearing tight little blouses, often without a bra, “how the hell does she expect me to concentrate on my work, when all I can see are her bring brown nipples poking out?” he’d joked to me in the car as he drove me home from sixth-form one afternoon. As a randy 17 year old, my cock would harden as I imagined her parading around his office, flirting with him, teasing him, seeking his attention and compliments in her little office outfits.
------------------
Now at University, I’d still come home frequently at weekends for my sport and Dad would pick me up from the train station late on Friday afternoons.
This day seemed no different to the others, as I came out the station around 6pm and scanning the car park, quickly spotted Dad’s White Escort 1600 Sport. Reaching the car, I chucked my rucksack in the boot, before making for the door handle of the front passenger seat. My Dad jumped out of the driver’s seat to attract my attention my attention, but I’d already opened the door to be greeted by the sight of a hot young brunette woman sat in ‘my’ seat. She was wearing a long black figure-hugging, wrap-around skirt with a seemingly never-ending slit up the side, that stretched up beyond the knee to provocatively reveal her tanned and shapely upper thigh.
“Oh” I said jumping back embarrassed as the tall woman leapt out of the car and held her hand out to me.
“Hi, I’m Deborah”
“Oh, hi. I’m Mark.” I said, eyes on stalks as I drank in the sight of this beautiful, sexy looking creature.
Fucking he’ll! My Dad wasn’t k**ding! I knew he was a bit of a leg-man, so a woman such as this, wearing these sort of outfits in his office must drive him crazy!
In addition to the devastating skirt, she wore a little white blouse, the type that was cut to squeeze tight around and under the chest, to push the boobs up and out – to emphasise a woman’s figure. And believe me they really didn’t need emphasising! They were just as my father had described, big, heavy full-cupped breasts, straining to escape from the restraints of the tiny white blouse. As we shook hands I couldn’t help but notice them jiggle…
“Mark, you don’t mind sitting in the back do you, while I drive Deborah home first?”
What choice did I have? I thought to myself and his secretary didn’t even wait for an answer before getting back into the front seat. Certainly seemed very familiar with herself, I thought, as I got in the back seat - on my father’s side - so I could sneak the occasional peak at those tits my Dad had talked so enthusiastically about and her sexy face.
As we rode across town through the late rush hour traffic, I may as well have not been there. They talked about work and boring stuff like that, shared little in-jokes with each other, and she showed no interest in me whatsoever. I had plenty in her though…
Her thick brunette hair was up in a pony tail and she had thick rimmed, black glasses, the stereotypical secretary look, and the look that I’d found myself increasingly wanking over these last six months or so. Her tanned and delicate neck looked so soft and welcoming, the seat belt that squeezed her right breast from underneath, pushing it up and out, her tanned legs in that ridiculously tight wrap around…I soaked it all in and burned images onto my brain’s hard drive for future use. Has my Dad already touched that neck, laced it with gentle kisses, blown air in her ear, nibbled on that ear lobe, run his hand along those long shapely thighs, groped those big heavy boobs of hers with his palms…? I pondered as I felt my cock harden to my thoughts and it was all I could do not to touch myself there and then…!
And then the conversation turned as my Dad asked what she was doing tonight. “Are you seeing him?” he probed, and its said with a barely hidden malice that piqued my interest.
By ‘him’, I took it to mean her boyfriend, the guy my Dad’s already told me numerous times ‘takes her for granted’ and who she’s ‘too good for’…
“No. He’s off out with his mates…” she replied, turning to look at my Dad, “As he usually does on a Friday.”
“He doesn’t deserve you…” came my Father’s instant reply, and though Deborah didn’t say anything, I noted how she briefly placed her hand on my father’s left arm. I also saw her quickly pull it away again as my eyes caught hers, as if she’d forgotten - but then just remembered - of my existence in the rear of the car…
It was a small moment, but it gave away a lot for me. My cock was now rock hard and pushing uncomfortably into my zipper, as I bore witness to their brief little moments of familiarity and intimacy and thought of the implications…
Another thing I noted was my Dad never once asked for directions, even though we live on the other side of town. We drove through the small streets of the sprawling suburb in which she lived, without the slightest hesitation from him. He must’ve been here before - and not just the once - I pondered…
On reaching her house, she leant over and with her right hand resting on my Dad’s shoulder gave him a little peck on the cheek, by way of a thank you. Unless I’d imagined it, she seemed to linger a fraction longer than if their relationship were platonic…
“Nice to have met you, Mark” she then said, turning and acknowledging me – pretty much for the first time - since our brief introduction. I just smiled at the slut, feeling a mixture of hate and lust towards the big-breasted whore.
As I watched her walk up her drive, I was struck by the devastating sight of that skirt in action, as it hugged her long, shapely legs and it has to be said, big fleshy, ass. God I could only imagine what it felt like to grab ahold of those cheeks. It must have been heaven. I wondered if Dad already knew, as I looked across at him again and rightful front passenger seat.
But he only had eyes for her at that point, transfixed on his young secretary, as he watched her turn the key to her front door. Stepping into her porch, she turned to look back and gave my Dad a coy little wave and a smile. I may have been a naïve teenager, but that felt a little more than just a ‘thank you’…
--------------------------
“So that’s Deborah, son...” my Dad paused, seemingly in reflection, as we drove off back down the road and headed for home and Mum, “…lovely girl isn’t she”?
“She’s alright” I lied, as I felt the warmth of her body in the front car seat that I’d reclaimed.
He must have detected my tone, as rather than the usual banter we’d have after being in the presence of a hot woman, he instead turned all defensive.
“Look, I know it looks a little suss, but we’ve had a helluva week and she just stayed late to help me catch up a bit…”
I just shrugged my shoulders, not sure what to say.
“So don’t tell your mother will you? You know how she’d react…” he trailed off and this at least I agreed. She’d already started to quiz him frequently about Deborah and he’d usually respond dismissively with ‘young enough to be his daughter…” or some such comment.
We drove back across town in silence as my thoughts switched to my mum and how she matched up to this new woman in my father’s life. In short, Deborah was everything my Mum wasn’t it. Aside from being a good fifteen years younger, she had the dusky, sultry looks, and an air of confidence and poise that comes with someone who just knows they’re hot….
I couldn’t help but think how if this girl - sorry - this young woman, wanted my Dad, if she wanted him to fuck her over the desk, or up against the filing cabinet, or if she wanted to take his cock in her mouth as he sat in his leather office chair, then Dad wouldn’t be able to resist. Especially as I already knew how he felt about her. Mum simply wouldn’t stand a chance…
And from what I’d seen of their interaction today, and God knows how or why, but she already seemed under his spell…I felt sad at this realisation, but also horny too.
And Dad had form too, as I ‘m pretty sure he’d played around with his previous secretary, that sexy French slut, Catherine. Then there was the nurse, Chrissy, before that…
As we reached home and pulled up in the driveway, I’d already decided if Dad and Deborah were fucking, then there was nothing I could do about it, except make the situation a whole lot worse by telling mum. Perhaps she already knew anyway and was just keeping quiet and putting up with it for the sake of our family? The little conversations I’d had with her about Deborah left me in no doubt she was already well aware of the threat she posed. So I vowed to myself to stay silent and instead use the images of today in a more positive light, as I headed upstairs, sat down on the toilet and took my rigid cock into my left hand…
———————-
For context - this is more an account of an event than a story, and I apologise for that. As far as I can remember, all these years later, it’s as accurate as I can recall the events of that day. I never actually found out if they had an affair or not, but I highly suspect so. I met her a couple more times when Dad picked me up at the train station and then she mysteriously and quite suddenly left her job about six months later. Dad never mentions her nowadays.
I have written about her before, a story called the Birthday Gift, where I let my imagination run a little more and will post that story later, but as always, I’m keen to know your comments. Was my father fucking Deborah, or is it just me putting 2 and 2 together and getting 5?
He’d started to mention ‘Debs’, or Deborah, to me recently whenever we’d got to talking about girls. Usually I’d be talking about Rachel or Joanne and how I fancied them rotten and how they’d flirt, but neither of them would actually go out with me. I was your typical frustrated 17 year old...And then he’d share his own little experiences of the women in his life (other than my mum, that was!).
More recently, that had usually meant, Deborah, his new young secretary. It was my father himself who appointed her. ‘Not the best candidate from a qualification or experience pov, but certainly the best looking!’ he’d joked. From what he’d told me, she could have been a Page-3 model. ‘A dead ringer for Donna Ewin’ he’d say, a statuesque, long-legged, dusky brunette with a voluptuous chest, was how he’d describe her.
He would tell me how she was fond of wearing tight little blouses, often without a bra, “how the hell does she expect me to concentrate on my work, when all I can see are her bring brown nipples poking out?” he’d joked to me in the car as he drove me home from sixth-form one afternoon. As a randy 17 year old, my cock would harden as I imagined her parading around his office, flirting with him, teasing him, seeking his attention and compliments in her little office outfits.
------------------
Now at University, I’d still come home frequently at weekends for my sport and Dad would pick me up from the train station late on Friday afternoons.
This day seemed no different to the others, as I came out the station around 6pm and scanning the car park, quickly spotted Dad’s White Escort 1600 Sport. Reaching the car, I chucked my rucksack in the boot, before making for the door handle of the front passenger seat. My Dad jumped out of the driver’s seat to attract my attention my attention, but I’d already opened the door to be greeted by the sight of a hot young brunette woman sat in ‘my’ seat. She was wearing a long black figure-hugging, wrap-around skirt with a seemingly never-ending slit up the side, that stretched up beyond the knee to provocatively reveal her tanned and shapely upper thigh.
“Oh” I said jumping back embarrassed as the tall woman leapt out of the car and held her hand out to me.
“Hi, I’m Deborah”
“Oh, hi. I’m Mark.” I said, eyes on stalks as I drank in the sight of this beautiful, sexy looking creature.
Fucking he’ll! My Dad wasn’t k**ding! I knew he was a bit of a leg-man, so a woman such as this, wearing these sort of outfits in his office must drive him crazy!
In addition to the devastating skirt, she wore a little white blouse, the type that was cut to squeeze tight around and under the chest, to push the boobs up and out – to emphasise a woman’s figure. And believe me they really didn’t need emphasising! They were just as my father had described, big, heavy full-cupped breasts, straining to escape from the restraints of the tiny white blouse. As we shook hands I couldn’t help but notice them jiggle…
“Mark, you don’t mind sitting in the back do you, while I drive Deborah home first?”
What choice did I have? I thought to myself and his secretary didn’t even wait for an answer before getting back into the front seat. Certainly seemed very familiar with herself, I thought, as I got in the back seat - on my father’s side - so I could sneak the occasional peak at those tits my Dad had talked so enthusiastically about and her sexy face.
As we rode across town through the late rush hour traffic, I may as well have not been there. They talked about work and boring stuff like that, shared little in-jokes with each other, and she showed no interest in me whatsoever. I had plenty in her though…
Her thick brunette hair was up in a pony tail and she had thick rimmed, black glasses, the stereotypical secretary look, and the look that I’d found myself increasingly wanking over these last six months or so. Her tanned and delicate neck looked so soft and welcoming, the seat belt that squeezed her right breast from underneath, pushing it up and out, her tanned legs in that ridiculously tight wrap around…I soaked it all in and burned images onto my brain’s hard drive for future use. Has my Dad already touched that neck, laced it with gentle kisses, blown air in her ear, nibbled on that ear lobe, run his hand along those long shapely thighs, groped those big heavy boobs of hers with his palms…? I pondered as I felt my cock harden to my thoughts and it was all I could do not to touch myself there and then…!
And then the conversation turned as my Dad asked what she was doing tonight. “Are you seeing him?” he probed, and its said with a barely hidden malice that piqued my interest.
By ‘him’, I took it to mean her boyfriend, the guy my Dad’s already told me numerous times ‘takes her for granted’ and who she’s ‘too good for’…
“No. He’s off out with his mates…” she replied, turning to look at my Dad, “As he usually does on a Friday.”
“He doesn’t deserve you…” came my Father’s instant reply, and though Deborah didn’t say anything, I noted how she briefly placed her hand on my father’s left arm. I also saw her quickly pull it away again as my eyes caught hers, as if she’d forgotten - but then just remembered - of my existence in the rear of the car…
It was a small moment, but it gave away a lot for me. My cock was now rock hard and pushing uncomfortably into my zipper, as I bore witness to their brief little moments of familiarity and intimacy and thought of the implications…
Another thing I noted was my Dad never once asked for directions, even though we live on the other side of town. We drove through the small streets of the sprawling suburb in which she lived, without the slightest hesitation from him. He must’ve been here before - and not just the once - I pondered…
On reaching her house, she leant over and with her right hand resting on my Dad’s shoulder gave him a little peck on the cheek, by way of a thank you. Unless I’d imagined it, she seemed to linger a fraction longer than if their relationship were platonic…
“Nice to have met you, Mark” she then said, turning and acknowledging me – pretty much for the first time - since our brief introduction. I just smiled at the slut, feeling a mixture of hate and lust towards the big-breasted whore.
As I watched her walk up her drive, I was struck by the devastating sight of that skirt in action, as it hugged her long, shapely legs and it has to be said, big fleshy, ass. God I could only imagine what it felt like to grab ahold of those cheeks. It must have been heaven. I wondered if Dad already knew, as I looked across at him again and rightful front passenger seat.
But he only had eyes for her at that point, transfixed on his young secretary, as he watched her turn the key to her front door. Stepping into her porch, she turned to look back and gave my Dad a coy little wave and a smile. I may have been a naïve teenager, but that felt a little more than just a ‘thank you’…
--------------------------
“So that’s Deborah, son...” my Dad paused, seemingly in reflection, as we drove off back down the road and headed for home and Mum, “…lovely girl isn’t she”?
“She’s alright” I lied, as I felt the warmth of her body in the front car seat that I’d reclaimed.
He must have detected my tone, as rather than the usual banter we’d have after being in the presence of a hot woman, he instead turned all defensive.
“Look, I know it looks a little suss, but we’ve had a helluva week and she just stayed late to help me catch up a bit…”
I just shrugged my shoulders, not sure what to say.
“So don’t tell your mother will you? You know how she’d react…” he trailed off and this at least I agreed. She’d already started to quiz him frequently about Deborah and he’d usually respond dismissively with ‘young enough to be his daughter…” or some such comment.
We drove back across town in silence as my thoughts switched to my mum and how she matched up to this new woman in my father’s life. In short, Deborah was everything my Mum wasn’t it. Aside from being a good fifteen years younger, she had the dusky, sultry looks, and an air of confidence and poise that comes with someone who just knows they’re hot….
I couldn’t help but think how if this girl - sorry - this young woman, wanted my Dad, if she wanted him to fuck her over the desk, or up against the filing cabinet, or if she wanted to take his cock in her mouth as he sat in his leather office chair, then Dad wouldn’t be able to resist. Especially as I already knew how he felt about her. Mum simply wouldn’t stand a chance…
And from what I’d seen of their interaction today, and God knows how or why, but she already seemed under his spell…I felt sad at this realisation, but also horny too.
And Dad had form too, as I ‘m pretty sure he’d played around with his previous secretary, that sexy French slut, Catherine. Then there was the nurse, Chrissy, before that…
As we reached home and pulled up in the driveway, I’d already decided if Dad and Deborah were fucking, then there was nothing I could do about it, except make the situation a whole lot worse by telling mum. Perhaps she already knew anyway and was just keeping quiet and putting up with it for the sake of our family? The little conversations I’d had with her about Deborah left me in no doubt she was already well aware of the threat she posed. So I vowed to myself to stay silent and instead use the images of today in a more positive light, as I headed upstairs, sat down on the toilet and took my rigid cock into my left hand…
———————-
For context - this is more an account of an event than a story, and I apologise for that. As far as I can remember, all these years later, it’s as accurate as I can recall the events of that day. I never actually found out if they had an affair or not, but I highly suspect so. I met her a couple more times when Dad picked me up at the train station and then she mysteriously and quite suddenly left her job about six months later. Dad never mentions her nowadays.
I have written about her before, a story called the Birthday Gift, where I let my imagination run a little more and will post that story later, but as always, I’m keen to know your comments. Was my father fucking Deborah, or is it just me putting 2 and 2 together and getting 5?
1 年 前
