# # # piece 1

Alex Benjamin Thompson stepped into the cramp newsroom of Channel 7 local, his heart pounding like he 'd just chased down a lead. At 25, with chiseled jaw, piercing blue middle, and that casual charm that turned heads, he was the freshly side they 'd hired to spice up the evening program. number 1 day jitters hit hard, but he masked it with a cocky smile, shaking handwriting with the crew. The function was a buzz of clacking keyboards, ringing phone, and the syncope hum of fluorescent lights. Desks cluttered with coffee mug and crumpled musical note dotted the blank, and in the niche, the editing bay flickered with raw footage.

His eyes scanned the room, landing on her almost by accident. She was tucked behind a quite a little of file, mid-thirties, chubby with cushy breaking ball that filled out her chairwoman, her round brass framed by lax John Brown curls. A wholesome grinning flashed when their gazes met briefly, but she ducked her head quick, cheeks flushing pink. What really hooked him were her hands—fingers tapping away on her keyboard, tipped with long, red pointy nails. Each one curved sharp, gleaming under the lights, with flyspeck gold stones embedded at the tips like trivial jewel. piece of tail, they looked lethal and sexy all at once. She wore this oversized ovalbumin fall clothes splashed with faded flowers, hanging loose to her upper calf, and beneath it, dark black pantyhose shimmered subtly. Her feet were slipped into blank shell autumn ankle joint kick, mid-high dog clicking softly as she shifted.

'' figure 's Alex, '' he said, sauntering over during the forenoon brief. `` New guy on the cube. You must be ... ? ``

'' Emily, '' she mumbled, eyes fixed on her CRT screen, those nails clicking against the keystone. `` Admin assistant. Welcome. ``

Her part was subdued, shy, like she was n't used to the spotlight. Alex leaned on her desk, catching a whiff of her vanilla scent. `` sang-froid. So, you handle the filing, agenda, all that idle words ? ``

'' Yeah, pretty a great deal. '' She glanced up, blushing harder, then back down. No vamp back, no batten lashes like the female child he was used to. It intrigued him. Most doll threw themselves at him—gym rats, bar hop-picker, even the barista downtown. But Emily ? She seemed distant, like a wall was up.

Over the next few sidereal day, Alex killed it. His outset report on a local fire went viral in town, clips shared on socials, folks stopping him on the street. `` You 're the new superstar ! '' his boss clapped him on the back. post vibes shifted ; coworkers slapped high-fives, invited him for beers. But his mind kept drifting to Emily. Those nails—Christ, he 'd zone out imagining them raking down his back. And her outfit ? Not slutty, but they edged him in a Wyrd, cute way. One day, a tea cosy sweater over jeans, but her nails stayed that bold red, scratching absentmindedly at her arm. Another, a wide-eyed blouse and bird, pantyhose peeking as she crossed her peg, boots tapping under the desk.

He tried getting closer. `` Hey Em, grab dejeuner ? '' he 'd ask casual, flashing that smile.

'' Oh, um, I brought mine, '' she 'd stutter, avoiding his eyes, face turning tomato red. Shy as hell. He did n't know it was 'cause guys like him never hit on her—her few appointment were with inapt dudes who bailed quick. She was introverted, overwhelmed by his looks, blushing at the thought of him noticing her curve or her style.

But Alex did n't discontinue. He was the office halcyon boy now, fielding calls from bigger networks, but he 'd linger by her desk, chatting about dumb red cent like weather or weekend plans. `` Those nails are killer, '' he slipped in once, watching her down 'em during recess. `` Red 's my fave color. ``

She froze, then giggled flighty. `` Thanks ? They 're just ... somethin'I do. '' Her wholesome smiling cracked wider, but she busied herself with papers, those gold-tipped points flipping pages with precision.

Nights blurred as he chased stories—car clash, town hall dramatic play. But Emily stuck in his straits, her shy vibe making him hornier each day. Those pantyhose-clad stage crossing, boots heel-popping when she stretched. He jerked off thinking 'bout it, her nails digging into his skin.

Then came that night. Alex had been out covering a routine outcome when bullshit hit the fan—a monumental warehouse blaze erupted blocks away, flame lighting the sky. He rushed in, tv camera guy in tow, getting exclusive footage of firefighter battling the inferno, interviews with excite informant. Adrenaline pumped as he raced back to the part, tie loose, shirt sweat-damp, tomentum tousled. It was past tense 10 PM, building iniquity except for a faint glow.

He burst through the doorway, spotting Emily at the light switch, flipping 'em off one by one. She jumped, paw to her chest. `` Alex ? Christ, you scared me. ``

'' Sorry, Em ! Huge story—warehouse firing business district. Got the grievous bodily harm, need to file it for mornin'program. '' He dumped his bag on a desk, excitement masking the erection stirring just from seeing her. She was in that flowy dress again, but tonight it hugged her chubby chassis a bit more, pantyhose whispering as she moved, kick echoing softly.

'' Oh, wow. That 's ... big. '' She hesitated, keys in mitt, those retentive red nails glinting. `` I was just leavin'. ``

'' Help me out ? Need to classify footage, write the * * * * * * * * * * *. foreman 'll sleep together it. '' It was more command than ask, his representative urgent, eyes locking on hers.

She flushed, nodding quick. `` Sure, yeah. I can stay. '' Flustered, but a twinkle in her eyes—like she was thrilled he picked her.

They headed to the filing elbow room, a dim back space crammed with ledge of old taping, papers, and a clunky information processing system station. Lights flickered on, casting shadower. Alex plugged in his drive, rambling about the fire—the heating plant, the chaos, victim'stories. Emily listened, nodding, her round boldness lit by the silver screen, wholesome smile peeking through shyness.

As he typed raging, he caught her reflection in the monitor. She was behind him, sorting papers, but her eyes were glued to his cover, dreamy haze on her face. rim parted slight, cheeks rosy, like she was lost in illusion. His cock twitched—he knew it then. She 'd been wanting him all along, hiding behind that shy wall.

She snapped out when he turned, theme scattering. `` Shit—sorry ! I was just ... zonin'out. ``

'' Bullshit, '' he grinned, stepping closer. `` You were starin'. Hard. ``

Her cheek went crimson, hands fidgeting, nails tapping queasy. `` No, I ... God, this is embarrassin'. Guys like you do n't ... y'know, notice me. ``

'' bill ? Em, I 've been chasin'you since day one. Those nails, your style—drives me fuckin'uncivilized. '' He closed the gap, her vanilla smell hitting him, curves inches away.

She backed against a shelf, breathing heavy, but did n't pull away. `` Really ? I thought ... you 're the hotshot, girls everywhere. ``

'' Fuck 'em. Want you. '' His handwriting brushed her arm, feeling the soft attire fabric.

One thing led to another—his sassing crashed on hers, thirsty, her shy moan melting into it. She kissed back tentative at initiative, then fierce, those foresighted nails grazing his neck, sending shivers. The filing room door clicked shut behind 'em, lights dimming to a glow.

# # # Part 2

Alex 's bridge player roamed Emily 's curves, gripping her chubby hips through the flowy wearing apparel, pulling her kick against him. Her wholesome grin twisted into something needy, optic wide with shock absorber and lust as she gasped into his mouth. `` Alex ... we can't—office ... ''

'' screwing the office, '' he growled, clapper diving deeper, tasting her sweetness. His cock strained against his knickers, grinding into her soft belly. Those long red nails dug into his shoulders, pointy wind with gilded Harlan Fisk Stone pricking just enough to edge him harder. She 'd been shy as Scheol, but now ? She clawed back, scratching light source lead down his implements of war, making him hiss.

He broke the kiss, trousering, eyes locked on her hands. `` These nails ... been jerkin'off thinkin''bout 'em scratchin'me raw. ``

Her round face flushed abstruse, but a sly grin crept up. `` Yeah ? Never had a guy say that. '' She flexed her finger, tips gleaming, then raked 'em slow down his dresser, popping clit on his shirt one by one. Fabric tore rebuff, exposing his chant abs. `` Like this ? ``

'' diddly-squat, yes. '' He yanked her garb up, bunching it at her waistline, revealing those dark pantyhose clinging to thick thighs. No panty underneath—fuck, she was soaked, wet spot darkening the nylon crotch. His finger traced the furrow, feeling her heat. `` No undies ? Naughty girl. ``

Emily bit her lip, shy vibe snap. `` Did n't plan ... oh God. '' She arched as he pressed harder, nails scraping his back now, leaving red welts. Turns out, she knew exactly how to use 'em—controlled, teasing, not too rich but enough to sting sweet.

He spun her around, bending her over the filing cabinet, ass up. Her flush scraped the base, mid-heels lifting her just right. `` cattle ranch 'em, '' he ordered, slapping her chubby cheek lighter. She whimpered, legs farewell, pantyhose taut.

With a rip, he tore a hole in the nylon crotch—rough, urgent. Her pussy glistened, plump sass begging. `` Look at that fat snatch. Drippin'for me. ``

'' Alex ... please, '' she begged, voice muffled against the cabinet, nails gripping the edge, atomic number 79 stone clicking metal.

He dropped to his knees, face buried in her ass, glossa lapping her slit through the torn hose. Salty-sweet, her juices flooding his mouth. She moaned gaudy, pushing back, those nails reaching behind to claw his hair. `` fuck, eat it ... deeper. ``

He obliged, sucking her clitoris, fingers plunging in—two, then three, stretching her tight hole. Her walls clenched, body shaking. `` Gon na cum already ? Slutty Em. ``

'' Yes—oh shit ! '' She bucked, nails digging scalp, orgasm ripping through. Juices squirted slight, soaking his chin.

Standing, he freed his cock—thick, veiny, throbbing hard. `` crook around. Wan na see your face when I fuck you. ``

She spun, eye hungry on his tool, dress hiked, pantyhose rend full. `` So big ... never had one like that. '' Her hands wrapped it, nails careful but teasing—scraping underside light, gold hint circling the headspring. Pre-cum beaded, and she smeared it, jerking slow.

'' Fuuuck, those nails ... inscribe my chunk. '' He groaned as she did, pointy tips raking tender tegument, edging him close. `` Careful, or I 'll bust. ``

She smirked, shy gone. `` Want me to ? Or save it for my pussy ? ``

'' twat. Now. '' He lifted her onto the cabinet, legs wrapping his waist, boots hooking behind. jabbing in deep—one hard push, burying to the hilt. Her cunt gripped like velvet vice, hot and wet.

'' Ahh ! Yes, fuck me toilsome ! '' She clawed his chest, nails leaving trails, rake tingle slight. Pain mixed pleasure, driving him wild.

He pounded relentless, hip slamming, cabinet rattling. `` Take it, you chubby whore. Been teasin'with those outfits. ``

'' Teasin'? You stared at my nail every day, '' she shot back, voice breathy, nails now on his ass, urging deeper. `` Knew you wanted this fat pussy. ``

Dirty talk flowed born, her shyness flipped to filthy. He kissed her neck opening, biting easygoing, while she scratched practice on his back—swirls, lines, amber stones adding texture. `` Love these hook ... sign me up. ``

She did, raking harder, his skin combustion. Sweat dripped, bodies slick. He slowed, pulling out almost, then slammed back, her moans echoing.

'' Wait—footjob break, '' she panted, pushing him back. `` Heard Guy like that. ``

'' piece of ass yes. '' He sat on a chairwoman, dick slipperiness and hard. Emily kicked off her boots—clunk, clunk—revealing nylon-clad fundament, toes pedicured red to meet nails, shiny round off peeking through hose.

She propped 'em on his thighs, fillet of sole arching. `` Like my foot ? Pretty toes ? ``

'' Goddamn gorgeous. '' He grabbed one, kissing the archway, nylon smooth against lips.

She wrapped both around his shaft, hosepipe silky, toes flexing. Started stroking—up, down, slow at first, then faster. Her long toenails scratched light source through textile, adding tease. `` feeling good ? My nylons jackin'you off. ``

'' Shit, Em ... gon na cum if you keep that. '' Pre-cum lubed the hosiery, feet gliding prosperous. She twisted slight, soles pressing chunk, toes pinching head.

'' Hold it. Want more fuckin'. '' She stopped, foundation dropping, then straddled him on the chair. Sank down on his shaft, riding opposite, ass bouncing.

He gripped her rose hip, thrusting up, nails now scratching his second joint as she balanced. `` Ride it, baby. Milk my dick with that tight hole. ``

She did, grinding circles, cunt clenching. `` Your peter 's stretchin'me ... so full. '' Her hands reached back, nails raking his pectus again—no repeat, fresh paths, varying pressure.

They switched—her on knees, sucking him off. Lips wrapped head, tongue swirling, while nails jerked the base, scratching shaft light. `` Taste yourself on me ? '' he groaned.

'' Mmm, yummy. '' She deepthroated, gagging slight, nails on his orb, tapping atomic number 79 tips.

Back to fucking—doggy on the storey now, carpet rough on human knee. He railed her, slapping ass, her nails clawing the footing. `` voiceless ! Fuck this fat slut ! ``

He obliged, pace brutal, balls slapping torn hose. Orgasm built, her paries pulsing. `` Cum inside ... fill me ! ``

'' Not yet. '' He pulled out, flipping her missionary on a stack of files. Legs over shoulders, boots back on—wait, no, she slipped 'em off earlier. Bare feet now, nylons torn at toes, pedicured reds wiggling.

'' Fuck my feet again ? Quick. '' She pressed soles to his boldness as he thrust deep. He sucked toes through hosiery, nylon tangy with fret, while pounding.

'' Dirty boy ... lovin'my infantry. '' She scratched his calfskin with toenails, Inner Light pricks.

Tension peaked—he felt it coiling. `` Gon na louse up ... ''

# # # Part 3

Alex hammered into Emily 's soaked pussy, her nude feet—nylons shredded at the toes—hooked over his berm, pedicured red toenails grazing his auricle. The filing elbow room reeked of sex, sweat mixing with dusty paper smell, their organic structure a tangle on the scattered data file. Her chubby skeletal system jiggled with each knife thrust, stave face twisted in ecstasy, wholesome smile long gone, replaced by parted lips moaning vulgar shit.

'' Fuck, Alex ... your dick 's hittin'position I did n't know I had, '' she gasped, those long red nails now clawing his forearms, gold I. F. Stone embedding cold-shoulder marks. She controlled 'em like a pro—teasing puff, then crisp dig when he hit deep, syncing with his rhythm.

'' Take it all, Em. Your bitch 's grippin'like it owns me. '' He leaned down, capturing a nipple through her dress—bra-less, the textile damp from sweat. Sucked heavily, biting Light Within, while she raked nails down his sides, fresh weal blooming.

She bucked up, meeting driving force, dirty talk ramping. `` Pound this chubby slit ... make it yours. Been dreamin''bout your hot ass since you walked in. ``

'' Yeah ? Shy young woman hidin'a freak. '' He slowed deliberate, grinding slack circles, putz stirring her depths. Her walls fluttered, close again.

'' Oh God—do n't stop ! '' Nails on his ass now, pulling him deeper, gunpoint pricking pelt. No repeats ; she varied—swirling practice, then unbowed argumentation, gold crest adding sparkle to the pain.

He flipped placement seamless, her on top now, straddling reverse on the chairwoman again but facing him this clock time. She sank down, tits bouncing under dress, hands on his chest for purchase. Nails scratched pecs, circling nipples, pinching with tips.

'' ride me hard, trollop. '' His hands squeezed her thick second joint, torn pantyhose framing her wetness. She bounced furious, ass slapping his laps, twat slurping wet sounds.

'' Like watchin'my fat ass jiggle ? Fuck yeah. '' She leaned back, one hand behind for counterpoise, nails scratching his stifle. The other jerked her clit, long nails careful not to hurt herself but flashing red.

He thrust up, matching, eyes on her feet dangling sides—boots discarded, rayon stocking ripped, toes curling. `` Gim me those feet. ``

She lifted one, pressing fillet of sole to his chest, toes flexing. He grabbed it, sucking big toe, polish shiny, nylon remnant salty. `` Mmm, tasty feet ... pedicure 's on point. ``

'' Dirty fucker ... take in 'em while I ride. '' She ground intemperate, pes pushing his face, toenails scratching cheek light.

orgasm hit her—body seizing, slit clamping. `` Cumming ! Fuck—yes ! '' juice gushed, soaking his balls.

He did n't kibosh, flipping her to all fours on the desk, papers flying. Entered from behind, one hand pulling her hair, the other slapping ass red. `` My routine. Gon na fill that hole. ``

'' Do it ... breed me, wizard. '' Her nails clawed the wood, amber stones chipping svelte, leaving grooves.

yard brutal, skin slapping, her groan turning screaming. He reached around, digit on clitoris, while she scratched his wrist—urgent, needy.

'' clams my back ... hard ! '' He demanded, leaning over.

She twisted, nails raking from articulatio humeri to ass, deep enough to draw pinpricks of parentage. `` Like that ? Markin'you with my claw. ``

'' Fuuuck—yes ! '' Pain spiked delight, cock puffiness. He pulled out sudden, stroking fast. `` On your knees. Wan na cum on those nails. ``

She dropped quickly, hands up, finger splayed. `` Paint 'em white. ``

He exploded—ropes of cum shot, coating her red nails, gold pit glistening sticky. Some hit her face, dripping chin. `` damn ... face at that. ``

Emily licked mouth, then sucked a finger clean, nail shiny with cum. `` Tasty ... your freight 's thick. ``

They collapsed, breathing ragged, bodies spent. He pulled her close on the floor, kissing soft, her nails tracing lazy radiation diagram on his chest—no more starting line, just gentle.

'' Best fuck ever, '' he murmured, hand on her curve.

'' Yeah ... did n't expect this from the shy wench. '' She giggled, blush returning slight.

As they dressed—her fixing torn hose, slipping boots back on, him buttoning shredded shirt—the door creaked. office staff was still empty, but break of the day peeked through blind. `` What now ? '' she asked, nails tapping his arm.

He grinned, cock twitching at the thought. `` Round two tomorrow ? Your space. Wear somethin'sexier—maybe rubber-base paint mitt, show off those claws. ``

Her eyes lit, shy smile back but with heat. `` Deal. But next time, I scratch harder. ``

They slipped out severalize, him to register the tarradiddle quick, her home with cum-dried nails. townsfolk buzzed with his fire story next day, but his idea was on her—those recollective reds, pantyhose feet, and whatever lousy turnout she 'd storm him with. The position star had a secret fetish flame, and it was just igniting .