The Mature Boss Who Filmed Herself Alone in Her Office

I’m fifty-one years old, and I never thought a temporary job would put me in front of the woman who still appears to me today when I close my eyes and grab my cock in bed. My previous project had fallen through, and they promised to place me somewhere else in six months, so I didn’t want to look for anything serious. Just something quiet that would put food on the table in the meantime.

An acquaintance passed me the tip: a small office complex in the upscale part of the city was looking for a security guard. Decent pay, relaxed atmosphere, and, according to him, full of very good-looking women. He told me with that smile of someone who knows what you like.

—You’re going to be like a kid in a toy store —he said—. Take my word for it.

I didn’t waste any time. From the bus crossing the avenue toward the corporate building, the parade was already underway: executives in high heels, fitted skirts, perfumes hanging in the aisle of the bus. I imagined the comings and goings, rainy days with people packed into the lobby. I trimmed my beard, put on the only good suit I had, and doused myself with the best cologne in the drawer.

The appointment was at nine. I arrived early, as always. I checked in with the receptionist and sat down to wait with a book open on my knees, more out of habit than concentration. Fifteen minutes later, a door opened and out came a woman who left me with my sentence half-read.

—Mr. Rubén? —she asked.

—Good morning —I stood up and offered my hand.

—Nice to meet you. I’m Renata, HR manager. Come with me, please.

She wasn’t a girl. She had to be around thirty-eight, maybe forty, and that made her even more dangerous. She walked ahead of me toward her office and I shamelessly let my eyes take in her entire back. Tall, fair-skinned, straight black hair falling to mid-back. A straight skirt that outlined hips a man doesn’t get over easily, and a fitted jacket that drew in her waist. Every step was a master class in something I had never studied. Her ass moved under that fabric with a rhythm that made my dick stir against the seam of my pants before we had even crossed the door.

When I went in and passed close to her, her perfume hit me. Warm, thick, with a sweet undertone that stuck to my throat. This is going to be a problem, I thought, and sat down trying to behave.

She opened the laptop to review my résumé. Her desk was a board resting on a metal frame, with no front, nothing covering underneath. There was no effort needed to look. At one point I glanced down and found her with her legs crossed, toned calves like someone who really works out, skin smooth and taut. I looked back at the screen before it could show. I really wanted that job.

—Tell me about yourself, Mr. Rubén. About your experience.

—Thanks for receiving me. I’ve been a paramedic, private security, I taught for a while. I get along with people, I’m proactive, and I learn fast. I’m open to whatever’s needed.

—A teacher? —she raised an eyebrow—. And why did you quit?

—I gave private lessons, mostly to boys who had a hard time with school. It’s not something I put on paper.

—I see. —She smiled faintly, and that lipstick smile stirred me inside—. Your profile fits what I need.

While she talked, I tried to look into her eyes, dark brown eyes with a firm gaze. But every time she turned to the screen, my eyes dropped like lightning to her neckline and caught the beginning of some firm breasts, neither big nor small, perfect for a hand. I forced myself to breathe slowly, clamping my thighs to settle the erection that was building against my fly.

—The position is at reception —she explained—. Control access, log visitors, rounds through the floors, keep an eye on the cameras, and report anything to me. Twenty-two thousand a month. You report directly to me.

I couldn’t believe it. This woman was going to be my boss, and they were also going to pay me to stare at screens all day. For someone who enjoys watching, it was paradise in uniform.

—Then tell me where to sign —I blurted out, smiling.

She smiled back and asked me to wait outside while she prepared the papers. I returned to the waiting area, opened the book again, and tried to think of anything that would bring my temperature down. Half an hour later I heard that voice again.

—Mr. Rubén, come back in, please.

I followed her, enjoying the sway of her skirt again. We sat down, she handed me the documents, and just as I was about to sign, the pen rolled off the desk and fell to the floor. I bent down at once. In that split second I turned my face toward her legs and saw a little above the knee, where the skin grew even softer. I caught a glimpse of the edge of a skin-colored garter disappearing beneath her skirt, and something tightened in my stomach and hardened lower down. I picked up the pen with an unsteady hand and handed it back.

—It’s yours —she said, amused—. So you can sign.

I signed feeling like a teenager. Then she dropped the formality for a moment.

—I have something to ask you. Would you mind starting today? The girl covering reception is from another area and she’s doing me a favor. It would really help me if you took the post now.

—I didn’t come prepared, but it’ll be a pleasure. Will someone brief me?

—I’ll handle that —she replied, and I swear the word “I” had never sounded so good.

She went out to get something and left me alone in her office, drowning in her perfume. I looked around without touching anything: everything neat, a pen holder, the laptop, two phones. Suddenly one started vibrating with notifications, one after another, and the screen lit up showing the lock screen photo. I moved closer under the pretext of leaning on the desk. In that image, Renata wasn’t the impeccable executive: she was in a selfie wearing a black bralette that barely contained her tits and a short skirt hiked up to her hips, her expression different, hungry, her tongue peeking between her teeth. I stood there mesmerized, my cock throbbing against the fabric.

I was so absorbed I didn’t hear her come in.

—Sorry for the impertinence, ma’am —I improvised nervously—. Your phone wouldn’t stop ringing; I thought it might be urgent.

—Oh, what a pain, I forgot it here. —She took both devices. She checked the work one, nothing new; opened the other and quickly put it away in her bag. She blushed slightly. I acted oblivious.

She explained the switchboard, the directory, the camera system. The tasks were simple, so I told her not to worry, I’d ask if I had any doubts. I saw a strange relief on her face, almost like someone who had just dodged something, and she walked me to reception.

***

I sat in front of the monitors and checked the camera map: reception, the conference room, the bathroom hallway, the dining area, the entrance and, look at that, one right in front of my boss’s office door. Fate has a sense of humor.

The morning was quiet. But I couldn’t take my eyes off the frame showing Renata’s office. Before noon I saw her pull her phone from her bag, lean back in her chair, and smile while reading something. At one point she bit her lip and kept scrolling with her thumb. That woman had a double life hidden away, and I had just peered through the crack.

When lunchtime came, the floor emptied out. Almost nobody stayed; the dining area usually sat deserted. I, of course, didn’t move. I said I wasn’t hungry and stayed glued to the monitor, now free to look without witnesses.

Renata looked to one side, then the other. When she saw no one was there, she opened her jacket a few inches and adjusted her blouse, tugging it down until the neckline became an abyss. My heartbeat shot up, and with it something else below my belt. She brought the phone close to the laptop, propped it there, and took a picture. Then she leaned in a little more so her chest took center stage and took another. With two fingers she pulled one breast out of her bra, weighed it in front of the phone camera, and shot again. The nipple, dark and already hard, pointed straight at my screen as if it were talking to me.

She stood up. Took a step back, lifted her skirt just a little, and shot a third. By then my cock was fully hard, uncomfortable inside my pants, pushing the seam upward, and I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. Renata hiked the skirt a little higher until the black lace garters showed and the white line of bare thigh appeared above her stocking. She slipped her hand between her legs over the fabric of her panties, pressed, and for a second I thought I saw her finger disappear into her underwear. The impeccable manager, the lady with crimson lips and perfect manners, playing at something forbidden while believing the world couldn’t see her.

On the other side of the camera, I discreetly opened my pants under the counter and pulled out my cock. It was so swollen it hurt. I grabbed it with my right hand and started jerking off slowly, never taking my eyes off the screen, biting my lip so I wouldn’t let out a moan in the empty reception. Every time she ran her hand between her legs I clenched harder, until my thumb was covered in the liquid already leaking from the tip.

And then she did it: she lifted her face and looked straight into the camera.

She yanked her skirt down, adjusted her blouse, and rushed out of her office. In a second I shoved my cock back into my pants as best I could, pulled up the zipper halfway, switched the screen to another view, picked up the book, and pretended to be an earnest reader. She arrived at reception looking flustered, cheeks red, a strand of hair stuck to her temple.

—Mr. Rubén, I thought you had gone to eat. Why are you still here?

—I’m not hungry, ma’am. I stayed to learn the system and started reading. Tomorrow I’ll go out or bring something. Aren’t you eating?

—Sometimes earlier, sometimes later. —She swallowed—. Is everything okay here?

—Everything’s in order —I held her gaze a second too long—. You seem nervous.

—Not at all —she smiled tensely, and went back to her office without another word.

As soon as she disappeared down the hall, I went into the reception bathroom, locked the door, pulled my pants down, and finished cumming in less than a minute, braced against the wall, mentally watching that dark nipple and that hand disappearing between her thighs. I came so hard I splattered the tile. I cleaned up, straightened myself, washed my hands, and went back to the monitor as if nothing had happened. That was the first day. There would be many more.

***

The following days became a silent duel. She knew I controlled the cameras; I knew that she knew. And yet the game didn’t stop. On the contrary.

She began leaving the door half open at the dead hour of lunch. She began looking into the lens as if searching for someone on the other side. One afternoon she slowly took off her jacket, folded it over the chair back, taking her time, eyes fixed on the camera, daring me to keep looking. She undid three buttons on her blouse, slipped a hand under her bra, and pinched her nipple without taking her eyes off me. Then she sucked that same finger with her mouth open, long, obscene, letting me see the pink tongue playing with the fingertip. I watched. Oh, I watched. And each time I pulled my cock out from under the counter, cumming into a towel I started keeping in the desk drawer like it was part of the equipment.

On Thursday of that second week, everyone stayed out for training outside the building. The whole floor was ours. At 1:30 her voice crackled over the intercom.

—Mr. Rubén, could you come to my office? I need to talk to you about the cameras.

I walked down the hall with my heart pounding against my ribs and my cock again straining inside my pants. The door was open. Renata was standing by the desk, without her jacket, her blouse with three fewer buttons than usual, her arms crossed in a way that pushed her tits together into a deep channel, and a half-smile that was anything but professional.

—Close it, please —she said—. Lock it.

I closed it. I heard the metallic click like a sentence.

—I’ve been thinking for days about how to say this without making it sound like what it is. —She took a step toward me—. I know what you see on that screen. And I know you don’t turn the monitor off when you should. I also know you touch yourself down there, Mr. Rubén. You’re not as discreet as you think.

—Ma’am, I...

—Don’t apologize. —She put a finger on my chest, right above the first button—. I did it so you’d look. I’ve spent years being perfect in front of everyone. I wanted someone to see me underneath all that. I wanted someone to jerk off thinking about me. Were you jerking off, weren’t you?

—Every day —I answered, my voice rough.

—Show me how.

The finger slid down, slowly, to my belt, and she loosened it herself with a skill that made it clear she had been imagining this for days. I took her wrist, not to stop her, but to feel her pulse, beating as fast as mine. I pulled her closer and kissed her. She tasted like coffee and lipstick, and she answered with an urgency that denied all her manners, sucking my tongue, biting my lip, pulling my hair at the nape of my neck.

I opened her blouse button by button while she finished unzipping me. I freed her tits from her bra and there they were at last, bare, those dark nipples I’d spent days seeing pixelated on the monitor. I bent down and took one whole nipple into my mouth. Renata let out a deep gasp, very different from her office voice, and pressed my head against her chest.

—Suck them harder, asshole, like that, like that —she murmured, and in that instant the office lady Renata died completely and the other one was born, the one from the photos.

I bit her nipple, ran it over my tongue, moved up to her neck, bit her collarbone. She already had my cock out and was grabbing it with both hands, measuring me, squeezing me, spitting into her palm to slick it over my length. She worked me with the kind of technique only a mature woman who knows exactly what she likes has.

—It’s thicker than I imagined —she said, looking at what she had in her hand—. And I’ve spent days imagining it a lot.

I sat her on the edge of the desk now, on the same spot where she’d taken those photos days earlier. I hiked her straight skirt up to her waist, the skirt that had made me lose my train of thought in the interview. Underneath, exactly as I had imagined, she had the black garter belt and a tiny lace panty, soaked through. I parted it with one finger and there was Renata’s pussy, shaved, swollen, shining with moisture, the clit peeking out like a pearl.

I knelt on the carpet without thinking. I put her legs over my shoulders and buried my mouth in her. Renata let out a cry she swallowed halfway, arched her back, and gripped the edge of the desk with both hands. I licked her the way I’d wanted to for two weeks: a flat tongue all the way through her slit, bottom to top, ending every stroke with a tight kiss on the clit. Then I opened her lips with my fingers and drove my tongue inside, fucking her with my mouth while my thumb worked the button.

—Oh, Rubén, like that, don’t stop, don’t stop, suck me there, eat me good —she panted, pressing my face against her pussy with her hand.

I slipped two fingers inside and found the rough spot within. I started working it with my fingertip while I sucked her clit with my lips, sucking hard, leaving no space. Renata began trembling all over. The open blouse moved with her breathing, nipples standing up, mouth slack. She came like that, in my mouth, the first time, clamping my head between her thighs and letting out a long, guttural moan that had nothing to do with the woman in perfect lipstick. I felt her pussy contract around my fingers on my tongue.

—I’m not done with you yet, ma’am —I told her, standing up, wiping my chin with the back of my hand.

—You’d better not be —she answered, grabbing my tie to pull me close.

I slid between her legs, set her ass on the desk edge, and pointed my cock at her cunt. I dragged it through her slit, coating it with her wetness, and she dug her nails into my back over my shirt.

—Put it in already, don’t make me beg.

I shoved it in with one thrust, all the way to the hilt. Renata threw her head back and let out a deep “ah” that echoed through the office. I felt her close tightly around my cock, hot and tight as if she had never been with anyone. I started moving slowly, pulling out to the tip, pushing in until I hit bone, looking into her eyes so I wouldn’t miss a single reaction.

—This is how you wanted to be seen, isn’t it? —I whispered in her ear—. Skirt up, blouse open, and the security guard’s cock buried all the way inside you.

—Yes, like that, asshole, like that —she panted—. Fuck me the way you imagined me, don’t hold back.

I did as she said. I grabbed her hips and started pounding her for real, feet planted firmly on the carpet, making her slide a few inches across the desk with every hit. Papers fell to the floor, a pencil rolled away, the pen holder toppled over. Neither of us cared. I heard her gasping with her mouth open against my neck, and every so often she spat out an obscenity that would have shocked the corridor of the corporate building.

—Harder, harder, break me —she begged, clenching my ass with her heels.

I pulled out suddenly, turned her around, and bent her over the desk face down. The skirt was still hiked at her waist. I spread her ass cheeks with one hand and shoved back in from behind. From that angle she felt even tighter. She gripped the far edge of the desk and stuck her ass out, offering herself completely. I dug my hands into her hips and started fucking her deep, watching her ass move with every collision and her breath ripple across the surface of the wood.

—Look at yourself in the camera, Renata —I said, panting—. You look just like in the photos, but with me inside you.

She lifted her eyes toward the corner of the ceiling, toward the lens she had been teasing for days, and smiled with that crooked mouth.

—No one else is going to see this —she murmured—. Just you.

I slapped her ass. Renata shuddered all over and squeezed my cock with her cunt in response. I slapped the other side, and saw the red mark bloom on her pale skin. She was coming again: her back trembled, she gripped the desk with white knuckles, and moaned through clenched teeth so she wouldn’t scream.

—Hold on, ma’am, I’m not done yet.

—Finish wherever you want, but finish now —she begged, voice breaking—. I want to feel you come.

I lifted her a little, straightened her against my chest without pulling out, and grabbed one breast with one hand while with the other I searched for her clit. I started rubbing it in quick circles, fucking her standing up, her back pressed to me, and I bit her neck.

—Where do you want it? —I asked in her ear.

—Inside —she panted—. I’m protected, asshole, inside, I want to feel it hot.

No more was needed. I shoved her against the desk again, drove it in all the way three, four, five more times, and came inside with a growl I tried to smother in her shoulder. I felt everything pouring out, shot after shot, while she contracted around my cock for the third time, pushing her ass back so she wouldn’t lose a drop.

After that we were both half-dressed, she sitting on the desk, me standing between her legs, sweaty, catching our breath. I felt the semen starting to run down her thigh. Renata slipped in a finger, scooped it up, and without taking her eyes off me, brought it to her mouth.

—Delicious —she said, and smiled at me with that smile I would never again mistake for innocence.

She stretched out her arm, took her personal phone, and without breaking eye contact, took one last photo. This time she wasn’t alone in the frame: her tits were bare, my left hand was still resting on her hip, and in the reflection of the dark monitor in the background, the rest of us showed—the two of us, her with her skirt hiked up and me with my shirt wrinkled and my cock out.

—So you won’t forget your first day —she said, straightening her blouse without any hurry.

That camera in front of her office became, from then on, my favorite view at work. And lunch breaks became the longest and wettest of my life.