Leggy Lana gives an office boy a stocking footjob


It would be good news if the office is empty. I have a lot of experience with office-based technology, and it occurred to me that an interesting idea might be for me to come round and fix your work computer. Much of that sort of work requires me to get under the desk to get inside the machine!

I’d have to switch the PC off to open it up, so you wouldn’t be able to use it for a while. Probably a good time to make a phone call. You decide to call your friend while I rummage among the cables under the desk.

After a while you get involved in your conversation and I notice you rolling back and forth in your chair and turning to face out the window, twirling your hair. I manage to sort out the problem and restart the computer. Still engrossed in your conversation, you realize it’s loading up and roll forward. I can see your legs are together but are apart from the knee down, and I start just moving things about so you will think I’m still busy.

It becomes clear that you are still so into your conversation that you seem to have forgotten that I am there, and so I sit and watch, while you talk and use the PC. I hear you telling your friend about the engineer that was here earlier but he must have gone. He was pretty hot, apparently.

You hang up and continue to work, presumably checking emails. As you get comfortable, I notice that your legs are now slightly apart. As you work, you shift in your seat from time to time, and I can see that your short skirt has already ridden up, and there is a dark band just inside, on your thigh.

I can’t believe you still haven’t noticed me. I’m so close to your legs that when you move them I can smell the scent of your perfume. I keep willing them to open further, to push your skirt higher so I can see if you really are wearing stockings. Suddenly, something on the net grabs your interest, and you lean forward as if to inspect something on the screen, your legs opening much wider, and your skirt shifting up to your lap.

Located directly between your legs I can clearly see your stocking tops and your creamy tan thighs, and between them your white panties. Whatever it is you are looking at, it’s clearly got you aroused. I can’t resist blowing very gently between your legs, directing my breath along the length of each thigh, then up and down over the front of your knickers.

You must be able to feel it because your left hand appears under the desk and absent-mindedly rubs your thigh. Once you remove it again, I repeat the blowing I did before. You cough, and I struggle not to laugh. I blow again over your panties and this time that is where you rub. Not distractedly, though, now you are obviously stroking your pussy through the fabric. You remove your hand to type occasionally, but it keeps returning and strokes rhythmically. The shape of your shaven cunt lips is clear through the sheer material.

I start to wonder if you might be having cybersex with someone, and I start to panic, thinking it is now really too late to make my presence known. My cock is already hard from the smell and heat from you, and I just want to get it out and cum while I gaze up your skirt, unbeknown to you. It’s incredible to be able to examine your underwear closely, see the lace and how it stretches over your skin.

But I know this has gone far enough. I start moving around loudly and make business-type sounds and call out, ‘Has it started working yet?’. You start and move your chair back quickly. ‘What the fuck…? Jesus, I thought you’d gone! What have you been doing down there?’

‘Uh…I, well’, I begin to say, and your face is thunder. ‘Sorry,’ I say, ‘While you were on the phone, I just caught sight of your stockings, but you didn’t realize I was there, and then I thought it was too late to say anything without looking like a pervert, and I thought you might leave for a moment, but then you started, y’know, doing THAT, and then I got aroused and it was uncomfortable, so I had to get out. I’m really sorry’.

You slowly break into a grin. ‘Bloody hell! You really startled me’, you say, and breathe deeply. Then, realization dawns that you were in the middle of something. You roll back to the computer and start typing.