Judy at the Self Storage Place
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Add: 23 April 2016 / 00:00
Size: 8.51 кб
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I have a very unique job in that I am a property inspector for a large insurance company. My job takes me all over the country. I get to meet a lot of very interesting people.
A rather large insurance company recently contracted with me to inspect a large amount of their insured properties. My inspection process is simple. The business owner or their designated contact is contacted and he or she sets up an appointment for time to gain access to the property. I have inspected everything from hotels and motels, to churches, to large strip malls, sports arenas, clubs, schools, theme parks, apartment complexes, warehouses, manufacturing plants and even vacant buildings. I go and take photos of the buildings and any fire protection systems. I am usually in and out in less than a half hour, depending on the size of the building or the insured asset.
Last week, I contacted some gentlemen to inspect a set of self-storage units that he owned. While he couldn’t be there, he said he would call the property manager to get me access.
I showed up a few minutes before the appointment. I sauntered into the office area. A fairly attractive lady was standing behind the desk. She was about thirty, Hispanic and was sporting a very low cut shirt, with a small bit of cleavage showing- nothing absurd, but teasingly delightful.
“Are you the inspector?” she asked. I acknowledged that I was the inspector.
“So when was the building built?” I asked.
“I have no idea,” she responded.
“Do you know how much square feet there is here?” I asked.
“No,” she responded, "I just started working here about a month ago."
“How many units are there?” I inquired.
“Four hundred thirty-five,” she replied.
“And the occupancy?” I asked.
“About fifty per cent,” she replied.
“Do you know when the roof was last replaced?” I asked.
“No,” she replied.
I asked a few more questions about unit sizes and prices. She answered each of my questions.
“So what’s your name?” I asked.
“Judy,” she replied.
“Does Judy have a last name?” I asked.
“Gonzalez,” she replied.
I told her that I would need to get some photos of the storage units.
“Do I need to go with you?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, “I think I can handle it.”
I stepped out a side door to the office and took a few photos with my phone camera. Judy stepped out beside me and lit up a cigarette.
I snapped a few more photos and stepped into the parking lot. I turned and took a photo of the office.
Judy slipped a hand on to her hip and another one behind her head, striking a pose. I smiled.
“I missed the shot,” I remarked.
“It’s just as well,” Judy replied, “I don’t photograph very well.”
“You under-estimate your beauty,” I replied.
I stepped into the office and cracked open the bathroom door. Judy stepped in behind me and watched as I snapped some additional photos.
“You have to take photos of the potty?” she asked.
“No,” I replied, "just the plumbing.”
I looked around for an electrical breaker box. Not seeing one, I asked where it might be located.
“Oh, that’s up in my apartment over the office,” Judy replied. “Do you need to see it?”
“If you don’t mind,” I replied.
Judy led me up some stairs and I followed. She had a cute ass and her size three jeans fit very nice and snug on her. She opened the door to her small apartment.
“Sorry for the mess,” she said, as she stepped into the tiny kitchen area.
“It’s back here,” she remarked opening up a small closet door and standing to the side. I stepped over and peered into the closet. I could smell the sweetness of her perfume.
“Where is the light switch?” I asked.
Judy leaned in, her breasts gently brushing my arm, as she reached past me and flipped on the light switch. Her close proximity to me was not lost on my libido. I quickly snapped a photo of the breaker box.
“Is there anything else I can show you,” she asked as I stepped to the side.
I took in a deep breath and exhaled. She was only a few inches away from me. I have always tried to remain professional in my job, but for some unexplainable reason, Judy had made it hard for me to maintain my professionalism.
“If you showed me anything else,” I replied, glancing down at her breasts, tucked neatly away behind her brassiere, “it would be a sin.”
Judy smiled.
“I see you’re like my boobs,” Judy remarked.
I immediately apologized.
“I’m sorry,” I remarked, “I really am.”
Judy chuckled as she stood next to me, blocking my way out of the corner of the kitchen area.
“That’s OK,” she replied. “That’s what they are here for . . . to look at.”
I was embarrassed.
“I wasn’t trying to look-” I replied.
Judy cut me off mid-sentence.
“Do you like them?” she asked.
I was not prepared for the direction our conversation had taken.
“Yes,” I replied, “but I don’t know if this is appropriate.”
“Oh come on,” Judy shot back, putting her hands over her boobs and squeezing them. “They’re just boobies.”
She reached out, grabbed my hand, and put it on her left breast.
“Feel it,” she remarked, pushing my fingers in past the confines of her brassiere.
I lightly cupped her small breast in my hand and squeezed it.
“Come on!” Judy declared. “You can do much better than that!”
I sat my tablet and cell phone down on the counter-top next to a cereal bowl. I pulled her shirt free from the confines of her jeans and slipped my free hand up under it and to her other bra-covered breast.
“This works better,” I remarked, “without a barrier,”
She slipped her hands behind her back and unsnapped her bra. In an instant, she was topless, her perky breasts right in front of me. They were small, with hard nipples perched on top of dark areolas.
“Do you like them?” she asked.
“Yes,” I replied.
I felt her hands on my crotch.
“Oh boy,” she remarked, feeling my erection. “I think you like them.”
She knelt down in front of me, unsnapped my trousers and pulled them and my underwear down. My cock practically slapped her on the cheek. She wrapped her fingers around my shaft and slipped the greyish-purple bulbed end of my cock up to her lips. She lightly kissed the end of my cock before slipping it into her mouth. I grabbed her brown hair in my hand and held on to it as she sucked my cock.
I could feel my thighs tightening.
I pulled her up and we kissed, pressing our lips against each other, our tongues darting in and out of the other’s mouth, my cock pressing against her stomach.
She took my hand in hers and guided me to her unmade bed. She slipped out of her jeans and soft pink underwear as I slipped out of my jeans and my boxer shorts. My attention was immediately drawn to a small rose tattoo just above her cleanly shaven pubic area. She laid on her back and spread her legs in front of me, her vagina wet with moisture. I could tell she was ready.
I slipped between her legs, my hands on either side of her upper torso, my cock resting at the entrance to her vagina. I slipped my cock into her as she looked up at me. Her eyes widened as my cock entered her. It was a tight fit. I could feel the walls of her vagina clamping down on my tool. I pushed as hard as I could, our pelvic bones crashing into one another.
It didn’t take long. My thighs tightened up.
“I can feel you cuming,” she exclaimed as the first spurt of my manhood shot out of me. I didn’t hold back.
“Oh fuck me,” she breathlessly exclaimed. Her body tensed. She dug her fingers into my shoulders, as she shook and shuddered. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head. She wrapped her legs around me, and then suddenly, she went limp. She looked at me, expressionless her mouth open.
“Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me!” she exclaimed. I continued to work my cock in and out of her, even though I had just cum. Her eyes rolled into the back of her head a second time and then closed, her hands out to the side, palms up.
I slipped out of her and on to the bed pile of sheets beside us. She didn’t say anything, but just lay there, looking up at the ceiling.
“I have to go,” I remarked.
She didn’t respond.
“Are you OK?” I asked.
“Oh yeah,” she replied, still looking at the ceiling of her tiny apartment.
As I dressed, she looked over and thanked me, then asked.
“Did we pass?”
“I’d say so,” I replied, zipping up my trousers.
“I’m glad,” she replied. “I hate to think we got a bad review.”
“No bad review,” I replied. “This one will go down as a good risk.”
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