Stories From The 6 Train 2(82)

“I’m busy, Lorna,” I tell her with ice in my voice. Trying hard to keep an expression of calmness, even though there’s a storm raging under my skin. I reach for the folders sitting on my desk and start to stack them together. I have no idea what I’m doing; I’m just trying to look as if I’m busy. She isn’t giving up this easily though.

“Maybe you could unwind a little,” she purrs, grabbing the hem of her dress and hiking up her outer thigh, revealing the tiny string of thong that laces her outer thigh. Fucking hell, I can’t believe this is happening right now. “ I know I could…”

“Look, Lorna,” I start, taking a deep breath as Becca pushes her mouth all the way down my shaft and holds her position, my glans pressed tight against the back of her throat. I deserve a fucking Oscar for the performance I’m putting on for Lorna right now. “I appreciate you coming here and all… But I have lots of work to do, as you can see,” I continue, shuffling papers around. Right now, I can’t even read what’s written in any of them. I’m using all of my brain power to maintain a straight face, and that’s already as fucking consuming as anything could ever be.

“Work can wait,” she insists, taking her fingers to her shoulder and pushing down one strap of her dress. It droops over her arm, the curve of her right breast revealing itself to me. My eyes dart to her cleavage, but I force myself to look away. She realizes it, and I notice a flash of anger in her eyes. She’s trying hard to get me interested, and it’s not fucking working.

“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath, Becca bobbing her head so fast that I can barely see anything in front of me. I try and make it look as if I’ve found something in my papers that I didn’t like, but I don’t know if Lorna’s buying my performance right now. Lucky for me, she’s more preoccupied with her own performance than she is with mine.

“Come on, Mason…” she continues, pushing down the other strap and revealing the outer edges of her bra. She’s done with being coy; now she’s moving hard, and won’t stop until I shoot her down as loud and clear as I can. Fuck. Well, I guess it’s only fair that I can’t fuck my stepdaughter without a few hiccups along the way.

I look down at my papers and, frowning as if I'm deep in concentration, I try to ignore Lorna as hard as I can. Like fucking Satan, she places both her legs on top of the desk and spreads them wide; unable to restrain myself, I look up, taking in the sight of her thong. There’s a wet patch there and I realize that, even though this is probably nothing more than a power play, she really wants me to fuck her.

“Lorna,” I repeat her name, putting the papers down and pursing my lips. Becca has taken her mouth off my cock now, and she’s using one hand to stroke me while, with the other, she caresses my balls and rolls them around her fingers. I feel my whole body tensing up, and I have to take a deep breath to stop it from showing. If Lorna finds out Becca is under the table, she’s going to raise hell and use that as ammo to get whatever she wants. I have to be fucking careful now; I’m walking on thin ice here. “I’m working,” I tell her curtly, trying to pretend that I’m pissed off at her interruption.

“You’ve said that already,” she hisses at me, barely able to hide the anger in her voice. “But I don’t believe you’re the kind of man too busy for women, are you?” she continues, placing her open hand on her thong and rubbing her own pussy.

“You don’t know me, don’t pretend that you do,” I shoot back, my insides clenching as I feel Becca’s lips on my cock once again.

“Oh, I do know you, Mason,” she purrs, all anger fading away from her voice. She’s acting, I know it, but she’s pretty convincing. “I know just enough to know that you can’t resist a tight pussy… And I’m tight. Very tight.”

Not as much as Becca, I think, trying to stop myself from grinning. Even though I try, I can’t stop the corner of my lips from curling into a half-smile. Taking that as encouragement, she grabs her thong and flicks it to the side, showing me her rosy wet pussy. Fuck, I can’t believe this is fucking happening.

“Lorna, don’t make me repeat myself,” I tell her harshly. “I’m working. Get out of my office. Right now.” I ball my hands into fists and place them on top of my papers, looking into her eyes.

Her seductive expression fades away from her face and, letting go of her pussy, she closes her legs and gets down from the desk. Straightening the front of her dress, she looks at me with disdain, anger flashing in her eyes. Lorna isn’t a woman used to being turned down, and I bet that she can harbor a grudge better than anyone.