I wake up in the morning, just like anybody else, when the sun shines through the window, warming me. Then I start the coffee, start the shower, and get in. I wash up, get out, and apply my makeup. I drink my coffee while deciding what I will wear for the day. Being at my office, I should tell you I’m a sucker for skirts. I like wearing them. Just like everyone else because I enjoy watching other girls in them. That excites me. There are a few girls in the office that I know you’d want to see, a couple of long-legged, long-haired, skinny chicks with large chests. They wear very short skirts. It looks like their legs go on for days. We can’t help but watch them pass by.
One of the girls in the office is short and round spoiled bratty bitch, but she is still in shape. She’s not fat but pleasantly plump in all the right places. The skirts she wears seem to hug her body differently. Today she wore a pencil-like skirt, but it had a long slit up the side. It’s like one of those peekaboo styles because, at any given moment, you feel like her private parts would play peekaboo with you. As I said, I’m a sucker for skirts and an appreciator of every type and style. This particular girl is one of my favorites, she sat across from me; she’s the one I can view the most.
Her thighs are a little thick, so she doesn’t cross her legs often when sitting at a desk. Instead, she has her knees somewhat apart, stretching that skirt out and making that slip ride higher on her thigh. She’s wearing thigh-high, and I can see the lace wrapping around that thigh, squeezing it tightly. Once in a while, she’ll notice me watching her. She knows I am a sucker for skirts, and she will shift from side to side and stare forward, concentrating on her work. Her body was always slightly fidgety. I know when she catches me because she’ll slightly adjust something, whether it’s her skirt or a button on her blouse. I hope I don’t make her self-conscious because I enjoy watching her.
Today, she needed my help to look over a file she was working on. I walked over to her and leaned down, brushing her arm with my breast as I read the screen in front of us. The question had been a tricky one. It was going to take a minute. I walked over, grabbed my chair, and rolled it over to sit next to her at her desk. The area was small. I had to squeeze in close so we could both see the screen. My leg was pressed against hers. As we discussed the work on the screen before us, I lowered my hand between us and laid it on my thigh, slightly touching hers. It was right against that long slit.
With the slightest movement of my hand in my fingers, I felt her skirt and then the softness of her thigh-high over her skin. It was a lovely skirt, and I am such a sucker for skirts. I expected her to adjust herself and, in her chair, hurry away, possibly or try to, but she didn’t; instead, her whole body stiffened. She just went still. I moved my hand again, more off of my thigh and onto hers, but still no movement. I kept the flow of my conversation regular. My eyes were straight up at the screen in front of us, but my hand was entirely on her thigh now, sliding just inside that skirt, rubbing against her leg.
I reached in, grabbing a handful of her thigh, and I squeezed it. She let out a gaspy breath. I hadn’t noticed that she stopped breathing, holding her breath while I began to touch her. My hand up deeper toward her warmth; her thick thighs touched and prevented me from going further. I took a moment to look away from the screen and at her. We gazed at each other for a split moment. Then she adjusted herself in her seat, spreading her legs wider, opening them for me. She wanted me to go further. I slid my hand up, pressing my fingers right against her warm pussy. There was no hiding how turned on she was now; I could feel the heat of her through those silky panties. She had worn this skirt for me. I appreciated it and was ready to show her how thankful I was.
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