Call Centre Girls

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I spend each day of the week making a dreary journey to my heartless, hell-hole of a workplace in a call centre for a large UK insurance company. Each day I leave the house at 7 am, dragging my sorry arse to the cold grey place which offers me very little money each month in return for the best years of my life.

I am 28 years old guy, pretty good looking when I’m feeling confident and manage to smarten myself up. More often than not, however, I am considered a bit of a scruff and a looser, so don’t have a great deal of success with girls.

One of the reasons I’m still in this job and have not managed to find an escape route somewhere up the corporate ladder is, I get distracted easily. I think about sex far too often for a man my age (or perhaps not), morning, noon and night, during meals, on the telephone, in the shower, the toilet, all day long.

My workplace does not help me with this affliction, dozens of call centre girls, all wearing the same crisp, sharp uniform of white shirts, black skirts and tights. They all hate the outfit and grumble all the time but I rather like it and wouldn’t have it different for the world. It is one of the few highlights of my job.

During the working day, I tend to press on and keep my eyes down, do the crossword puzzle and stop turning over images of each girl I see, taking off those blouses for me in some fantasy moment where the office is miraculously empty. Letting me feel their thighs underneath their neatly ironed office skirts. Life is a constant battle to suppress these thoughts or at least to control myself in the office so I don’t seem like some complete raving pervert.

One thing I love about sex is the experience of peeping underneath the mask of the ordinary. Seeing a once prim girl, unleashed and back to nature, her persona altered completely unrestrained and exposing her more secretive and filthy side just for me. Every girl acts quite different and there is always something new to discover, and I like everything I find, I just want to see it all.

So, here I am in this job surrounded by many different woman with all different looks, ages and sizes, but arriving at work each day with the same clothes and with the same dull customer service attitude imprinted on their brains. Chatting away in that tinned voice discussing the latest troublesome customer or office policy. It drives me crazy, I want to see all of them naked, showing me their bodies, spreading their legs. I want to fuck any one of them, if only to make life more interesting when I arrive for work the next morning.

You see, call-centres tend to have an atmosphere of angst, everything is pent up, anger is restrained and emotion is caught, contained and directed through the correct channels. The tight bodies of my female colleagues passing past my desk always leap out and steal my attention. Despite the best attempts by our managers to oversee a little army of clones, the little differences always stand out. Girls will always find a way to exert their individuality. A skirt may be a little shorter, lips may be reddened a little more than appropriate or a risky coloured bra may peek out at me through the buttons of a blouse. I always notice the difference, almanbahis adresi and it floods me full of fantasies. I have a different one for each girl, an older woman fantasy for the mature staff, an ugly but desperate fantasy, a skinny fantasy a fat one, a boss one. Basically I am an pervert trapped in the body of a friendly customer service agent.

On to my story which began a few weeks before Christmas. I went to the pub for a few beers with a good pal of mine after a trip to the cinema, there was a good atmosphere around us and the town felt alive and buzzing. On last orders we didn’t quite feel like going home yet and carried on to a club. A few more drinks was the justification but I am always hopeful about these things.

The club was typical of a Scottish small town, chart music, bad lighting, sticky floors. On this particular night it was packed to the brim of office parties and Christmas nights out, the place was mayhem, so I took a deep breath and threw out my anchor for the bar.

As I spied a half empty spot and made my move through a thick layer of bodies. I shuffled head first into one girl I recognized. The cramped, confused situation I was in allowed me to smile, introduce myself and even make some small chitchat ‘yes I am upstairs’, ‘yes the jobs shit’, ‘no, no bank holiday for me either’ all before I got the chance to get nervous and fluff my lines.

It was great, here she was at the bar waiting to be served, and I had managed to make a move without thinking to hard about it, always a mistake on my part. This girl, next to me, I had seen most days at the office and perhaps spoken to once or twice, only to hold a door or ask some question in passing.

She was my average call centre type, quite short, well toned, nice breasts that filled her white office blouse nicely. In the club she seemed fresher somehow with bright clear eyes and her dark hair let loose. She was wearing white trousers and a Spanish style top and seemed very relaxed compared to the other times I had seen her.

I talked to her for sometime, and sat next to her in the back of the club. It was a surprise to me to think I might be in with a chance here, and she seemed interested in whatever trite stories I had to say that night, we shared only small talk and jokes but she sat with me until closing time.

By the end of the night we were still, to all extensive purposes, strangers and when her mates called her to leave she said she would catch them up. Later, I walked her out the door, following behind, I could see her knickers through her thin trousers in the exit way light. My mind was buzzing with what was on her agenda, she didn’t look like the type of girl that was into one night stands. Shit, I couldn’t tell what she wanted. She had a way about her that was calm and dignified, to me all woman have this, why do they look to me as if they are mentally dissecting the electricity bill when all I think about all day long is sex, sex, sex.

Even when we agreed to share a taxi, I still was uncertain. Did she want me to come in with her or did she really just think this would be a good way to save money. I would be gutted if she stopped it now, I was developing a deep fascination almanbahis adres for what her knickers looked like underneath the fabric of those tight fitting trousers, her arse looked fantastic, it would be just my luck to miss out.

Finally at her flat, she asked me to come in, she asked it softly, so the taxi driver could not hear and I knew, at last, what her intentions were.

I went through the close and upstairs into her flat. I was quiet in the hallway not being entirely sure who she shared with. She let me into a bedroom and disappeared away, presumably, to the bathroom. Her bedroom was small and cosy, CDs and ornaments all around, pacing up and down my mind was full of the joy of pulling this girl and the curiosity of what was coming next.

Until this point we had not even held hands, but once she returned we threw ourselves at each other. Kissing me hard she felt strait for my cock, which gave me an inkling she was dirty and perhaps even a bit desperate, but this is not an issue for me, I love that in a girl.

My hands moved to the buttons on the front of her white jeans. I had been dreaming all night of those panties. I pulled the jeans around the curve of her buttocks to reveal crisp white underwear, a skimpy but firm structure which cupped beautifully a tanned, trimmed mound. I cupped my hands over and felt the heat of her pussy on my hands.

I stripped her on the bed and as I pulled of the remainder of her jeans I saw her body looked beautiful. The toned dark skin on her waist and her thighs outlined the white, laced panties she wore. I kissed her on her inner thigh and moved up towards her pussy.

She shifted her leg and I could tell she was wet but paused for a moment after pulling her knickers to the left and looked her in the eye. There was a nasty looking glint and a sharp intake of breath.

Slowly I started to dip my tongue into her cunt. I dipped and circled trying to touch her clit only gently and I felt her writhing, moaning for me to keep going. She tasted fantastic, hot, salty, slutty. Desperate to fuck her, I moved up her body with my tongue, slowly with forced patience past her breasts and on to her mouth. When she opened her eyes I could see how completely wild she looked, she half mouthed half gasped the words,

“I want you to hold down my hands over my head and fuck me as hard as you can.”

This kind of talk drives me crazy, my cock was raised so hard in that one moment it was almost painful. As I removed my belt, I showed it to her and pulled her hands towards the bedposts, she looked pleased with the idea so I tied her firmly with the leather strap. She gasped as I pulled it tight. Her near naked body was arching up and down against the sheets. I was completely charged, so I pulled away the oversheets and slowly rolled down her knickers. She arched up, parting her legs completely, showing me everything. Shaking, I pulled away my own clothes as I kneeled on the bottom of the bed, watching her.

The sight was amazing, I wish I had paused at that point for longer, just to take it all in. She was tied, and had spread her legs completely for me, staring at me desperate to be fucked. My cock was heavy and I let it linger almanbahis adres for a while at the entrance to her hole and stared into her eyes with a smile as I slot it inside of her.

As I began fucking her she started to pant out phrases, “my god I hardly know you and now you are fucking me, I am such a slut, to let you do this to me, come in me, just treat me like a whore, fucking use me” each word was spoken with such careful, breathless wantonness and desire, it was clear she was living out a few fantasies with me. The thought just made me more excited and we began pounding against each other harder.

It was like she was possessed by some nympho demon and the change in her was so shocking a contrast it was unbelievably fucking sexy. Then she asked me what was my dirtiest fantasy, “there is nothing I will not do for you right now.”

As I slid my cock in and out of her she moaned and twisted, her hands still tied she bucked her back towards me, leaning her head over she said,

“look make me feel like a complete slut, do anything, fuck me anywhere,”

She wanted to feel dirtier and I knew what I wanted. Anal sex was something I had never done, never even tried. I never had the courage before and its not even appealed that often, but I felt so crazed with lust and she seemed to get off so much on being just downright dirty. I had to take my opportunity this one time.

I turned her fully around on the bed, the belt twisting tight against her wrists, and pushed her onto her knees. I dipped my hand into her pussy, and used the wetness to lubricate her arsehole, I did this several times until I could slide my finger and then fingers inside. Every movement made her sigh,

“fuck my arse, come inside my arsehole you dirty fucking bastard”

This was too much for me, as I levered myself and pushed with great pain to fill her backside, the whole thought of what I was doing, and how fucking dirty this girl was acting, took over me, and I came with one powerful stroke up her arse, I swear I almost passed out as I felt my semen spouting up inside her, she moaned deeply and collapsed forward.

We unravelled ourselves and lay in a nervous embrace. Smiling at each other, placing awkward kisses or attempting some misguided caress, it felt out of place. A short while later I got dressed and called a taxi.

The next day of work I was excited and nervous, what the hell would she look like, cleaned up, showered and back in the regulation black skirt and tights. How would she look at me, would she smile, ignore me, try and talk or kiss me or, more likely, would she be hugely embarrassed. I did not see her for a while and when I did she talked to me quite happily and calmly. In fact, her dull, routine small-talk brought me down to earth a little. Later I could recognise small changes in her manner, different from the few moments we had shared as strangers before the shag.

Although I never said a word to anyone, my ego is unmoved, swelled in-fact by this little secret and I love the feeling, of seeing her walk past, catching a sly sideways glance. Now I know some of what these girls are thinking about, what devilish little thoughts they may conjure up to pass the time through another dull shift. It pleases me to feel I am not so alone in my sexual torment. I feel at least one person in this conveyor belt of boredom knows what’s happening inside this oversexed, underused and secretive little brain of mine.

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