Man-Eater: Chapter Seven - Sex Stories

Man-Eater: Chapter Seven

... This made her ample breasts just forward. Even in her smartly-cut, professional dress, those luscious orbs stood out high and proud. With her back arched deeply, she looked like a stick figure with balloons for tits.

In one, sensual, moaning action, she pulled the pins out of her hair, letting her shining sable hair cascade over her face, across her shoulders and chest, and down her back. Her practiced movements were so erotically sensual that a collective moan escaped the men’s mouths. She combed her hair out with her fingers, shaking her head back and forth while smiling.

“Ah,” she whined in a playful tone, “I’m still overdressed.”

“I told ya, little lady. You’d be more at home in those Daisy Duke shorts you mentioned.”

It wasn’t exactly the lead-up she’d anticipated, but it was good enough. “Well, now that you mention it…” Eve let her voice trail off, a faux uncertainty entering her tone.

Allowing a seductive, impassioned expression to cross her face, her sable hair hanging in flowing waves, the brazen woman sidled up to her boss, her back to him. She crept backward until her ass was against Victor’s crotch and lifted her hair, exposing the back of her neck to him.

“Unzip me, Mr. Moore,” she pled.

With somewhat shaking hands, Victor looked at his peers. It didn’t take much urging from the drooling men to convince him to undo her dress. He reached out, feeling the heat of her flesh, and fumbled with the delicate zipper, finally tugging it downward. He ...

... stopped at her mid-back.

“Goall the way,boss.” She heard the appropriate sound and felt his fingertips brushing the small of her back.

Smiling victoriously, Eve laughed and shrugged off the dress. It billowed downward, puddling around her feet. The men went insane when they saw what she was wearing beneath her finely tailored, business-casual, blue dress.

“Too much?” she asked, knowing she wouldn’t get any response.

Calling her Daisy Duke cutoffs “shorts” was a misnomer; a tattered rag that showed way too much skin would be a much better description. The blue denim had been intentionally faded and distressed. One of the back pockets was ripped off, with only tiny holes where the seams used to be. The leg holes had more than an inch of white fringe from the fabric fraying away. The color had blanched to the lightest of sky blues, with a predominance of near-white patches on the fabric, with lots of white threads showing. Rips and tears perforated the threadbare, faded denim, showing more of Eve’s pale, smooth flesh than denim.

The tattered state of her sexy shorts was the furthest thing from the men’s minds. They were cut so short, the leg hems angled upward, that the bottom third of the front pocket linings hung beneath the tattered fringe of the shorts. If she spread her legs even slightly, the thinness of the crotch was revealed. It was scant more than a wide string holding the front and back halves together. The back was even sluttier. Near the crotch, the ...