The Schoolgirl I Hide—I Showed Her to My Boss

The office was almost dark. Only the desk lamp was still on, and under that yellow light Esteban’s face looked harder than usual. I came in with the folder I no longer needed to deliver, because I had gone over it three times that afternoon just to have an excuse. The click of the door closing sounded far too loud in the silence.

For months, the two of us had been working late, alone, and during that time I had learned to read him: the way he loosened his tie when there was no one left for him to answer to, the way his jaw tightened every time I leaned over his desk to point out a figure. That night I decided to stop pretending I didn’t notice.

I approached slowly. My heart was pounding against my chest so hard I was sure he could hear it from his chair.

I stopped behind his seat, leaned forward, and ran my open hand over his crotch. I felt him hot and tense beneath the fabric of his trousers, his cock thick against the seam, reacting before either of us said a word. I squeezed a little harder, feeling it throb beneath my palm.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?” he growled softly, but he didn’t move away an inch. On the contrary, he spread his legs slightly to give me better access.

“I want to touch it. Really,” I whispered, pressing with my open hand, following the bulge up and down, feeling it grow even harder beneath my palm. “I want to suck you off. Will you let me?”

Esteban drew a deep breath, a hoarse sound that ran through my entire body. He stood up unhurriedly, took three long steps to the door, and turned the key. The click of the lock stole my breath.

“Kneel,” he said. His voice trembled, though the order did not.

I dropped to my knees as if someone had cut my strings. With clumsy fingers I undid his belt, lowered the zipper, and tugged his trousers and briefs down to his thighs. When his cock sprang free, hard and throbbing at face level, my mouth went dry. It was more than I had imagined: thick, heavy, the skin marked by a vein pulsing along the shaft, the swollen, purplish head already shining with a thick drop at the tip. His balls were tight and full, hanging heavily beneath that impossible cock. He smelled like a man, like an entire day spent working beneath his clothes, like something I was ashamed to admit I liked so much.

“Look what you do to me,” he murmured, burying his large hand in my hair and gripping it firmly. “Open your mouth. Nice and wide.”

I opened it as wide as I could. I stuck out my tongue and ran it first over his balls, sucking them one at a time and feeling his stomach contract. Then I slowly moved up along the vein underneath to the tip and kissed it, savoring the salty drop already welling there. When I finally opened my mouth and he pushed inside, I could barely take him. The first attempt brought tears to my eyes, my jaw stretched to its limit, and saliva escaped from the corners of my mouth as I took him with my flat tongue, squeezing and sucking slowly.

“That’s it…” Esteban panted, pushing gently at first. “Deeper. Easy, don’t rush. Suck me properly.”

The sounds filled the office, wet and obscene, bouncing off the empty walls. The slurping of my mouth around his cock, my muffled moans, his breathing growing more broken by the second. I tried to take him deeper, pressing my nose against his belly, but my throat closed up; I gagged for a second and started again. Saliva hung in thick strands from my chin, spattering my shirt. I moaned with him inside me, a muffled, vibrating sound that seemed to please him even more.

“Look at your eyes watering,” he said, tugging my hair a little to lift my face. “Look at all that drool running down you. You love having my cock in your mouth, don’t you? Tell me.”

I pulled him out just enough to speak, holding him in my hand and placing wet kisses along his shaft.

“I love it,” I babbled between one suck and the next, strands of saliva hanging from my chin to my shirt. “I love sucking you. I love how you fill my mouth. Put it all the way in, please.”

He plunged himself back into me until I felt the tip pressing against the back of my throat. His hips began to move, thrusting with short, firm strokes, fucking my mouth at an increasingly rough pace. I could barely keep up, my eyes watering, my knees digging into the carpet, saliva spilling everywhere. I felt his balls striking my chin with every thrust. And even so, I didn’t want him to stop. With one hand I touched myself over my trousers, already soaked, my own cock hard from the sheer pleasure of kneeling there and giving him mine.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he panted, sweating, his tie crooked, his shirt open. “No one’s ever sucked me like this. No one.”

I grabbed his balls with one hand and squeezed them lightly while continuing to suck the tip, moving my tongue quickly over the head. I felt them tighten and draw up against his body.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, his voice broken. “You’re going to swallow all my cum. Don’t move.”

His whole body went rigid, his thighs hard as stone beneath my hands. The first spurt hit me hot and thick, straight at the back of my throat. I swallowed as best I could, feeling the salty, dense taste run down my throat, but it was too much; the second spurt overflowed my mouth and fell in thick white drops onto my chin and shirt, hanging from my lips. He kept shuddering, pressing the last drop against my tongue. I came inside my trousers without touching myself, just from the salty taste flooding my mouth, my cock throbbing against the fabric, and the feeling that I had given him something I had never given anyone else.

“Don’t waste it,” he murmured, still panting, holding my face between his hands. He gathered a strand of semen dripping from my chin with his thumb and put it in my mouth. I sucked it slowly, looking him in the eyes. “Good girl. That’s it.”

Afterward we stayed silent for a while. He helped me to my feet and, for the first time in months, he didn’t look at me like just another coworker on the floor. He looked at me.

***

The next day, as soon as I crossed the threshold of his office, he shut the door behind me and fixed me with those hungry eyes.

“I couldn’t stop thinking about you all night,” he said, already resting his hand over his trousers and squeezing his cock through the fabric. “I jerked off three times thinking about your mouth. I want more. Much more.”

At four in the morning, staring at the ceiling, I had decided that if this continued, it would be all or nothing. I took out my phone and showed him the pictures without letting my hand tremble. On the screen I appeared in lingerie, in a short dress, wearing makeup. And finally, the schoolgirl photo.

“This is my secret,” I said, my voice going high all on its own. “I like dressing this way. I like feeling like a woman. I want you to treat me like one.”

Esteban stared at the screen for a long time. He bit his lip. I waited for rejection, a grimace, an excuse not to speak to me again. It never came.

“You’re beautiful,” he said at last, and the word hit me harder than anything else he had ever said to me. “What do you like to be called?”

“Vera,” I replied, and it sounded true to me for the first time in a very long while.

“Vera,” he repeated, trying the name in his mouth slowly. “You turn my head upside down. Tonight, at your place. Come dressed like you were in the last picture. And get your little ass ready, Vera, because today I’m going to fuck you the way you deserve.”

***

I spent the entire day with my stomach in knots. At the office I addressed him formally, brought him the reports in the same neutral voice as always, and no one around me suspected that that very night I was going to open the door to him transformed into someone else. Every time I passed him in the hallway, he held my gaze a second too long, and that second was enough to keep me going.

Before he arrived, I took my time in the shower. I washed myself inside with patience, shaved every inch until I was smooth as a little girl, and ran my saliva-slick fingers over my ass until one slipped inside without resistance, and then two. I imagined it was him and moaned alone in the bathroom, loosening myself, preparing myself as he had asked.

He rang the bell at exactly eight-thirty. I had spent two hours in front of the mirror, touching up every detail until the girl in the reflection stopped looking like a costume and started looking like me. I opened the door in the complete uniform: the navy-blue pleated skirt so short it showed the edge of the lace, the white shirt knotted beneath my breasts, the knee socks, the red bow in my hair, and lips shining with pink gloss. I felt exposed and, for that very reason, more alive than ever.

Esteban came in, pushed the door shut, and ran his gaze over me from head to toe. He said nothing for several seconds. Then he smiled crookedly.

“Look at you,” he murmured, approaching slowly. “What’s your name?”

“Vera,” I answered, biting my lip. “At the office I’m someone else. Here I’m your schoolgirl.”

“Vera,” he repeated, taking me by the waist with both hands. “That little skirt doesn’t cover a thing. You can see your ass if you bend over even two inches.”

He pushed me against the hallway wall, gently but without letting me escape. He yanked up my skirt, and his fingers brushed the fabric of my already-soaked lace underwear. He pulled it aside and ran two fingers along my slit, up and down, feeling how wet I was.

“You’re dripping,” he said against my neck, his beard scraping my skin. “Did you think about this all day?”

“All day,” I admitted, rubbing myself faintly against his hand. “I couldn’t think about anything else. I touched myself in the bathroom imagining it was you.”

“Whore,” he growled, and the word shot through me with pleasure. “My little whore. Take it off. Slowly. I want to look at you.”

I slid the lace down with trembling hands, letting it fall to my ankles, then stepped out of it. He undid his trousers and freed himself, hard and ready, his cock standing upright and pointing toward the ceiling, the tip already shining. He held my chin between two fingers so I would look at him.

“Kneel again,” he said. “But today you’ll do it slowly. The way I taught you last night.”

I let myself fall to my knees on the living-room carpet, my pleated skirt opening around me. I took him into my mouth with more hunger than the first time, and less fear. I began at the tip, placing wet kisses on it and sticking out my tongue to lick the drop forming there. Then I worked him all the way inside, inch by inch, until I felt him strike the back of my throat. I sucked with everything I had, moving my head up and down, letting saliva run over his balls, moaning around him, hollowing my cheeks each time I rose. This time I knew what I was doing, and that turned me on even more.

“That’s it, Vera…” he panted, holding my head with one hand without forcing me. “Look up. I want to see your face while you suck me.”

I raised my eyes to his, teary, my open mouth full of him, and saw his jaw slacken with pleasure. I pulled him from my mouth for a moment and rubbed him all over my face, against my cheek and lips, marking myself with saliva. Then I licked his balls one by one, taking them into my mouth, while my hand gave him a slow, firm handjob.

“You’re going to kill me, baby girl,” he panted, grabbing my hair. “Come here.”

He let me breathe for a second, wiped away a tear with his thumb, and put it in my mouth so I could suck that too.

“Tell me you’re mine.”

“I’m yours,” I said hoarsely, still sucking his finger. “All yours. Do whatever you want with me.”

He pulled me up by my arms and took me to the sofa. He put me on my knees on the cushions, my face buried in the backrest, my ass held high toward him, and hiked my skirt up to my waist, leaving me completely exposed. I felt his hands part my cheeks, his hot breath against my skin, and then his tongue. He buried his face between my buttocks and began licking my ass, long strokes with his flat tongue, pressing the tip against my hole until I felt it slip inside. My whole body jerked, moaning into the backrest.

“You got yourself ready for me,” he said, his voice thick, spitting there, rubbing the saliva in with his thumb and pushing it inside me slowly. “Good girl. Nice and open.”

“I wanted you to go in easily,” I confessed, trembling and pushing my ass back against his hand. “I opened myself in the shower thinking about you. Put it in, please.”

He spat on me again, spat on his cock, rubbed it up and down, and pressed it against my hole. He pushed slowly. The pressure stole my breath, that familiar burn as the tip forced its way open, a pain mixed with something much stronger. I bit my lip to keep from screaming, but a long moan escaped me anyway when the head gave way and slid inside.

“Esteban…” I panted, clutching the cushions with my fists. “Slowly… that’s it…”

“Breathe,” he murmured, advancing little by little, giving me time, holding my hips with both hands. “Easy. It’s all right. Look how well you take me. How your little ass swallows me.”

When he was fully inside, his balls against my buttocks, he stayed still for a moment, letting me feel him, letting me get used to that huge cock opening me from within. I was trembling; I felt full, impaled. Then he began to move. At first slowly, pulling almost all the way out and sliding back in, each thrust drawing a different sound from me. Then more firmly, his hands digging into my hips, the rhythm gradually building until the sofa creaked with every impact and my buttocks bounced against his pelvis with a dull noise.

“More,” I begged, gripping the cushions, my ass held high for him. “Don’t stop. Fuck me hard.”

“Tell me how much you like it, little slut,” he panted, leaning over my back and biting my shoulder through the shirt. “Tell me.”

“I love it,” I moaned, pushing back and meeting every thrust. “I love your cock inside me. I love being your girl. I’m yours, Esteban, I’m only yours. Fuck me, break me, do whatever you want.”

He grabbed my hair and pulled my head back, while with his other hand he searched for me in front and found my cock, hard and dripping beneath my skirt. He began jerking me off at the same pace as his thrusts, his hand closing firmly around me and moving quickly up and down.

“Come for me,” he ordered in my ear without stopping. “Come with my cock inside you. I want to feel you squeeze.”

I lasted less than three seconds more. I came with a muffled cry against the backrest, semen spurting over his hand and the fabric of the sofa, my whole body tightening around him and trembling from head to toe. I felt my ass clench in spasms around his cock, and that undid him.

“I’m going to come,” he warned, his voice breaking as he thrust faster and deeper. “Inside. Do you want me to come inside you?”

“Yes,” I said without hesitation, though I had almost no voice left. “Inside. All of it inside. Fill me.”

He came with a long groan, burying himself to the hilt, and I felt every throb of his cock emptying inside me, hot spurts filling me from within. He stayed there, pressed tightly against my ass, while he shuddered through the last few pulses, breathing over the nape of my neck. I collapsed onto the sofa, my skirt bunched around my waist, my bow askew, my makeup smeared into a black mess beneath my eyes—and still feeling more whole than ever.

He withdrew slowly, and I felt his semen beginning to run down my thighs, warm and thick. He looked at me through narrowed eyes and ran two fingers along the white stream, gathering it up. He brought them to my mouth, and I sucked them without thinking, closing my eyes.

He leaned over my back and kissed my shoulder with a tenderness I hadn’t expected after he had fucked me like that.

“Tomorrow at the office,” he murmured against my skin, “you’ll address me formally, you’ll wish me good morning as usual, and no one will know anything. But when everyone’s gone…”

“When everyone’s gone,” I repeated, smiling against the cushion, “I’m Vera again.”

“Exactly.” He gave my still-marked buttock a gentle slap and stood up, straightening his clothes. “This is only the beginning.”

I stayed sprawled there a while longer, with his hot semen still inside me, listening to him make coffee in my kitchen as if it were the most normal thing in the world. For the first time in years, the secret I had hidden at the back of the closet had a name, a large hand holding me, and someone who, when he looked at me dressed like that and fucked like that, didn’t see a costume. He saw me.