1. Debbie Do

1 Prologue

 

Debbie was my go to girl at the office. When I needed a session booked, she was the one who could do it. Even better, she would lean over at her desk revealing cleavage that went all the way from Chicago to Cleveland, She was that special kind of woman. Five foot two, with 38DD breasts always barely restrained in a low cut fashion. My eyes always wavered between her large brown eyes and incredible tits. Debbie knew it. She kept her black hair cropped short so as to never obstruct the view with distracting tresses that would thwart admiration of her magnificent breasts. When she would rise to walk to a file cabinet her tiny ass was often sheathed in fabric that would reveal panties lines if worn. Often they were not. This was in the pre-thong days. She was the best. Debbie could get me booked where others would fear to tread.

 

One Friday night after work the whole crew retired across the street to our favorite watering hole. I could only have a few because I still had a cut to do and clients were coming in first thing Monday. I didn’t want to work over the weekend so I left early. I tossed my credit card to Dave the bartender and said “My treat.” and went back to the office to do the rough cut on my KEM.

 

I had spent an hour or two and had the rough cut knocked. I was doing the last playback when I saw Debbie standing in the doorway. She held two cocktails in her hands. “Finished yet?” she asked in her low and soothing voice.

 

Debbie was wearing a sheer orange dress that accented her olive skin impeccably. The plunging V of her neck line barely constrained her overflowing breasts. I wanted to dive into that cleavage. The way the fabric flowed and simultaneously clung about her body was a sight to behold. As she poured into the room and handed me one of the cocktails I didn’t care what was in it. I wanted to be in her. I noted that she had closed the suite door and locked it so I was already plotting, but mindful because we were colleagues.

 

“Show me what you did.” she asked. So I lined up the pix and track and hit the right button and the rough cut played.

 

After the grease pencil fade out Debbie said, “Let me see it again.”  

 

I obliged. As all good editors do, I watched Debbie’s face, not the screen to gauge her reaction. It doesn’t really matter what people say, it is the way they react that counts.

 

I turned and hit the stop button at the end of the spot. When I rotated my chair back to Debbie I asked, “Well?”

 

Debbie had moved close behind my chair and when I turned I was eye to orange silk covered tits. As I tilted my head up to peer past those unbelievable boobs I saw her short cropped black mane and soft brown eyes smiling down at me.

 

“I think the clients will love it. That reminds me.”  She tossed the credit card and the signed bar tab in my lap.

 

“Oh, thanks.” I said and put the receipt and card on my desk.

 

“Now I have something else for you.” I heard her say.

 

When I turned back she began to peel the orange fabric off her shoulders. The dress fell to the floor unveiling Debbie before me in white bra and panties. The contrast between her dark olive skin and the white fabric of her undergarments drew my hand like a magnet. But Debbie slapped my hand away and she said “Uh uh, my treat now.”

 

 

There was nothing for me to do but admire the full figured woman in front of me. Such a compact yet voluptuous womanly figure deserved adoration. The short cropped hair framed a strong jaw line, soft delicate shoulders that supported her full and astoundingly firm white clad breasts that lead down to a flat tummy resulting in pristine white panties. The legs were sturdy and shapely. Compact femininity at its best.

 

“Well this is a treat.” I stammered. “Thank you.”

 

“Oh no, thank you.” Debbie said reaching  for my zipper while dropping to her knees. As she pulled it down she deftly undid the buckle on my belt with her other hand. With one stealthy movement my hips went up, my pants were pulled down, and she was running her tongue up the length of my cock which was already hard and reaching to the sky. The only hitch was at the knee where she had to work the jeans over my prosthetic leg. She knew of it and it didn’t phase her as she looked at the knob on the tip of my shaft as it bobbed in the air before her shimmering brown eyes. She reached up with both hands and  ran her fingers from base to just below the tip. Being a petite woman, except for those magnificent tits, her small hands made my average sized shaft seem longer and thicker to my visual delight. Of course when her hands reached the knob all bets were off. The head of my cock resembled a tennis ball in her small hands.

Debbie rose up on her knees just high enough to maneuver her mouth over the top of my cock and ever so slowly let her lips part as she slowly slid my dick into her mouth and as far down her throat as it would go in that position. I felt her tongue work teasingly side to side almost reaching my balls till I felt her throat open a bit with a reflexive gag.

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Debbie raised her head slowly leaving a stream saliva along the shaft as her tongue slid up the length to the tip releasing the now shimmering orb. She looked up at me with watering eyes. She swirled her tongue around the large knob and murmured, “I have heard about this,” as if speaking to a microphone, then wrapped her lips around the engorged head and sucked on it like a Tootsie Pop.

 

She paused just long enough to look at me and say, “I guess I have my work cut out for me.”

 

Debbie then proceeded to fuck me with her mouth as I have never been skull fucked before.  She was slurping, humming, and making quite a spectacle as her short black hair began to glisten with perspiration. She worked me mercilessly with lips, tongue and hands till I could contain myself no more.

 

As I spurted wildly in her throat she slowly raised her head gliding her lips tightly along my ejaculating length. When her mouth freed me she gave a last flick of her tongue to gather a bit of semen from the tip. She looked at me with her deep brown eyes while using her pinkie to pull the last bit of come from her lips to her mouth and said, “Now you owe me one.”

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Author: Pete Symes

Purveyor of paralogical compliance to verbally mediated reality, artisanal smut, with a pinch of full time flâneur tossed in to taste.

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