My New Secretary

I was lost without my secretary. Angie had left me to get married, and she and her husband had left the area, and had also left me secretary-less for want of a better word.

I had advertised, but had not been satisfied with any of the applicants so far.

There was one, however, who seemed to have all the necessary qualifications apart from her age. She was forty-five against my own thirty-five, but I had been hoping for a good-looker like Angie had been.

I had not interviewed her as yet, but decided that I had little to lose. After all I needed someone else in my office, for telephone answering, typing, etc.

I telephoned her to ask her to come in, and she answered straight away, evidently being still at home and not in any other kind of employment.

But when I asked her to come in she replied by asking me one or two questions first, if I did not mind.

Firstly, she asked, how old was my last secretary?

Secondly, did she dress to please customers or was she a strictly business suit type?

(I wondered about this question, but shrugged it off.)

Thirdly, did I mind that she was married? (I told her that that was irrelevant.)

Lastly, did anyone else work there or was it just me?

We finally agreed that she should come in as soon as possible and that I would let her know immediately after the interview whether or not she was being considered.

An hour later (although she only lived five minutes away if she were to walk) there came a knock on my office door. Much to my surprise I saw a very attractive blonde standing there, who introduced herself as Stephanie - the first name of the mature applicant. I bade her enter and to take a seat, and to my further surprise I realised that she was wearing an extremely short mini-skirt, that her legs suited the brevity, and that although she was sitting with her knees together there was sufficient of a gap below her tight skirt to allow me to see that she wore stockings, as it had ridden up when she sat down. I asked her a few questions, and was extremely pleased with her answers - yes she could type, she was computer literate, she was pleasant in appearance and manner, and would be an asset to my business. But there was still that niggling doubt about her age. Weighing up the pros and cons in my mind I was hesitating, and she apparently sensed this as she looked me straight in the eye as she asked, "Is it that I'm too old?" but at the same time smiling. I momentarily looked down at her knees again (I had been fascinated by them ever since she first sat down) and, much to my extreme surprise her knees parted slightly, allowing me to catch a glimpse of pale flesh above the stockings. Again she asked me, "I am not too old, am I?" and as I wavered again her knees parted even wide, so that now I was looking straight up her skirt to where a hint of white panties could be seen. I looked up at her face to find she was still smiling, and as I looked down again her knees parted even more obscenely, as she hiked up the tight skirt slightly to allow her to do so. I was now looking directly at her white gusset framed by the pale thighs and the black stocking tops.

On seeing how she had really captured my attention she asked another question. "If I am offered the job and I accept, you would not require me to dress in a business suit or tights, would you?"

Briefly she parted her legs even wide, hiking up her skirt to fully expose the crotch of her knickers, then close her knees together and tugged the skirt back into place.

My mind was made up. "The job's yours, Stephanie. When can you start?"

"Right away, if that suits you." she replied. "Where is my desk?"

I pointed to a desk facing mine. A traditional office desk with computer, screen, all accessories, and faced with a modesty panel.

Again I had a surprise. "I'm sorry, but I am not used to having a modesty panel in front of my desk. Would it be possible to have it removed?"

I must have looked a little astonished, for she said, "I'm sorry if I have shocked you, but I used to be my husband's secretary and we never had a modesty board between us so that he could see me all the time. But our daughter has now become his secretary so that she can gain experience, which is why I am now looking for other work until she goes to college. I have got used to being on full display, and I would feel claustrophobic if I were not sitting at a table-top with two drawers alongside. Mind you, our daughter has to endure the same lack of privacy. We think it will be good for her should she ever enter a job where the same conditions would apply. My husband says it will stop her from being embarrassed about allowing her knickers to be seen whilst she is at work."

I was beginning to wonder why I had not interviewed Stephanie earlier!

"Have you a screwdriver, please" she asked me.

Without realising why I handed one to her from my own desk, and to my delight she immediately knelt down and began to unscrew the panel. Once it was off, she walked round the desk so as to face me, then sat down on her chair and parted her knees once more!

"You are welcome to look, but not to touch, of course" she laughed as she tugged her hem higher once more to reveal her gusset, which now seemed to have a slightly damp patch appearing. "And I'll be wearing a different pair every day so you should get some variety, at least. I must warn you, though - some of them are less modest than others!"

As she had said, though. I was permitted to look but not to touch, and I kept to this understanding for the rest of the week, during which time I was able to observe her in black nylon knickers, lace ones, and silky ones.

But on the following Monday morning when she came in Stephanie asked me if I could allow her a big favour. When I enquired what it was she said that she and her husband had been talking over the weekend and wondered if their daughter, Candy, could come to spend one or two days with me in order to further her experience. "No pay required, of course," said Stephanie. "She just needs the experience."

When I agreed she was delighted, and immediately rang her husband to say so.

When she put the phone down she said, "She'll be round in about ten minutes, if that is all right. But I must warn you beforehand. She wears even shorter skirts than I do, which means she never wears stockings, and her knickers are decidedly briefer, often to the point of being almost invisible! She will be using my desk, of course, as I would have to take her place with my husband. I assume that will be all right. After all, it will only be for a couple of days or so, and she is quite capable of coping with the work. But she usually sits in exactly the same way as I do, so you will be treated to a new view, although her exposure will be better than mine, as there will be less skirt to hide her knickers from view."

I told her she was welcome to spend a day or two with her husband. After all, we had caught up with work and any outstanding work was simply routine - anyone could handle it.

A few minutes later a knock came on the door, and Stephanie opened it, revealing a very attractive young girl of about eighteen, long legs, a micro-skirt which was only just long enough to cover her crutch, and a top which seemed to consist only of short sleeves with a piece of material meeting in the middle of her upper body in a knot. She could not have been wearing any bra underneath that!

Stephanie kissed her, and then introduced me to Candy, her daughter, who came straight up to me and gave me a similar kiss to that which she had just given her mother. Stephanie bade us goodbye, reminding Candy that she was to treat me no differently from the way she had treated her father in the office.

"You mean it is all right if he wants to look at my knickers?" she laughed. "Dad does so all the time! He says I wear much sexier ones than you do!"

Stephanie turned towards me as if to say that she was not disapproving of such talk, and then added, "And by the way - she has to be shaven there. You'll see why when she shows you how tiny they are sometimes. Her dad and I usually take turns in shaving her, as both she and I find it easier for someone else to do it for us - someone else can see better than we can trying to stand over a mirror for instance."

And with that she blew us both a kiss and left the office.

Candy smiled, and then turned to sit down behind the desk. "Ready?" she called to me as she sat down.

I sat myself down, and gazed quite deliberately beneath her desk as she started up the computer. Candy was sitting back looking at the screen, but openly spreading her knees, allowing her tiny skirt to ride up, revealing a minute scrap of white silk held in place by two slender threads. It could not have been more than an inch wide at the top and about two inches down to where it disappeared between her fleshy lips which protruded on either side of the narrowest part of the material.

She looked up at me, quite blatantly, as she said, "Do you like what I have on? Daddy calls them his favourites. I made them myself from the gusset of an old g-string. Mummy usually borrows them when she goes out with him to a party or similar, but I don't suppose she has shown you anything as daring, yet, has she?"

I adopted the same tone I was now used to using with Stephanie. That is, I was quite open with no inhibitions (neither had Stephanie) whenever I spoke, and as Stephanie and I had agreed always to call a spade a spade it meant that I did not have to mince any words or use words which might have a subtle meaning rather than a straightforward one.

"She hasn't," I said. "She always has her knickers on show, but she had never worn anything so revealing as those you have on - I can see most of your pussy, as you probably know, but I have never seen a hint of hers."

"I must see to it that she uses a pair of my crotchless ones some time, then," she laughed. "The ones Daddy usually calls my 'second best' ones, as he prefers these."

"I like them, too," I said to her.

"Only like? "she laughed. "Have you ever seen any as microscopic as these? My boyfriend says he has never seen any as tiny as these, and I usually have to tell him to be careful, as the threads holding the silk in place are fragile and could snap. Daddy is always very careful when he takes them off, and so is Mummy, but I am afraid that Danny sometimes can be rough, and I have to remind him before he removes them."

I was listening to all this in amazement. Candy was being more open than Stephanie had even been. But I was even more taken aback when she continued.

"So, please be careful whenever you take them down, won't you. Like you are when you take Mummy's down," she added.

"I've never taken your Mother's knickers down!" I said.

"That's not what she tells Daddy," said Candy simply. "She tells him that you have never lost a day without taking her knickers off and playing with her pussy. Go on. Admit it. You have, haven't you?"

"No, I haven't." I answered, a little shocked, but also a little speculative about where this was leading.

"Well, why would she tell Daddy that?" she asked. "That was one of the reasons why Daddy wanted me to come here to work for you for a time. Not that he would object to your having sex with Mother, but in the hope that you might have sex with me, too!"

I was taken aback even further. She was about to hand me sex on a plate, and with both her parents' consent!

"Mummy and Daddy are a little concerned, they said, that I am shortly going away to college, and have only had sex with two men so far, and one woman. Those were Danny, Daddy, and Mummy. That's what they meant when they said I should have some further experience. But you are going to take them off for me, aren't you?"

She stood up and placed herself at my side and lifted what tiny skirt there was to her waist.

Still almost in a daze I reached out and as gently as possible grasped the thread-like strings at her waist and carefully pulled them until they were on her thighs.

She gave a sudden laugh, then, and said, "Don't worry - I'm always mending them. Break the damn strings. It means that I shall have to take them home to repair them, so I will have none on at all for the rest of the day. You won't mind that, will you? Especially if you have fucked me first!"

"Go on! Break them! Please!" she said, as she began to straddle me.

I found it easy to do so, and as the delicate g-string fell away from her she sank down onto my lap, reaching for my zip as she did so and freeing my cock in a way which proved she was more experienced than she had been making out.

As soon as it was out she sank right onto it up to the hilt, my cock sliding in as it it were into melted butter, so lubricated was she. "This is how Daddy likes it," she said. "Danny prefers to be on top. But Mummy likes it this way, too, when she wears her strap-on double-dildo. But usually, then, Daddy puts his tool between us so that we can both lick it at the same time."

The effect of this talk had me so worked up that I could not help ejaculating there and then.

"I'm on the pill," she said. "Don't worry. Danny can't hold back for too long, either, although Daddy can."

Just then the telephone began to ring, and Candy, hardly flinching, twisted round and picked it up.

"Good morning!" I heard her say. Then she listened for a short time and said, "Yes, I did." Then she took the received away to say to me, "It's Mummy. She wants to know if I have encouraged you to take my g-string off yet."

Then she returned to the telephone. "Yes I have," she continued, "and he's fucking me right this minute!"

Then she turned to me again and said, "Mummy wants to speak to you."

I put the receiver to my ear to hear Stephanie say, "About time, too. I gave you enough opportunities but you never took them up. At least Candy has brought you out of your shell. I never expected you to keep to your side of the bargain and not touch me. I wanted you to do so. Actually I am in the same position as Candy is, except that I am being fucked by Chas, my husband. I wanted you to do it all the time I was in your office, but I have had to be satisfied by Chas or Danny - whoever happened to be around. But Chas wants to speak to you."

Chas came on the phone. I was extremely apprehensive about what he was about to say, but to my utter surprise he came out with a proposition. "What say we share two secretaries? You have Candy one week, and I have Steph. Next week we change over and you have Steph and I have Candy. Agreed?"

I could not help but agree.

And that is how the situation now is. One week I have Candy, and the following week I have her Mother. They always put knickers on to begin with, as I have told them that I look forward to seeing what choice they have made, sometimes they even use the same ones the other wore the previous week. But now, every day, those knickers only stay on until we have finished our work for the day, when I get to take them off.