Busty Female Boss's Whispered Handjob at a Hidden Office District Bar After Hitting It Off

I'm Shota. A first-year data analyst in my early twenties, an unremarkable guy.

Our company is right in the middle of the office district. On a mild spring night, the department drinking party kicked off.

Ayaka is the sales department head. A beautiful boss in her mid-thirties, her suits always stretched tight over her curves.

What stands out most is her chest. On my first day, I froze when I saw it.

Her massive breasts seemed ready to spill out of her white blouse. At least a G-cup.

The soft, swaying cleavage was breathtakingly alluring, like ripe fruit that pinned my gaze in place.

The party started at an izakaya.

While my bosses and colleagues were rowdy and laughing, I nursed my beer quietly in the corner.

Ayaka was at the next table, occasionally letting out her cheerful laugh.

(I wonder what that boss's breasts feel like up close... Would they sink in if I touched them?)

Such fantasies flitted through my mind. I hardly ever talk to women, yet here I was, thinking about this stuff all the time.

As the party wound down, someone piped up, "What about a second round?"

Ayaka suddenly glanced my way and smiled.

"Shota, you in?"

I nearly spilled my beer in surprise.

"Me? Uh, yeah! I'm in!"

My heart was pounding. Why me, of all people?

The second round was at a hidden bar in the office district.

The spring night breeze felt pleasant as we all walked over.

But along the way, the group thinned out, and before I knew it, it was just Ayaka and me.

"Shota, you can hold your liquor better than I thought. Tell me more."

Ayaka's voice was soft. We sat at the bar counter, and her perfume wafted over—sweet, with a floral hint.

As the drinks flowed, our conversation picked up.

We discovered some unexpected common ground. Both of us were into obscure indie bands.

"You know this song? That vocalist's voice is irresistible, right?"

Ayaka played it on her phone. The quiet melody filled the late-night bar.

Outside, neon lights flickered. The spring air was a bit chilly.

I got excited and started rambling passionately.

"I've been to one of their live shows! That guitar sound hits you right in the chest."

Ayaka's eyes sparkled. I felt like we were building a connection.

(Who knew I'd share hobbies with a boss like her... Could this be my chance? Nah, for a virgin like me?)

Time passed, and the bar grew even quieter.

We were close enough at the counter for our shoulders to brush.

Ayaka's breasts lightly pressed against my arm.

That softness. The weight of her G-cups transmitted through the fabric.

My lower body started heating up gradually.

"Shota, you seem tense?"

Ayaka whispered in my ear. Her breath was warm.

"N-no, not at all..."

Total lie. My cock was already rock-hard.

Maybe it was the alcohol, but Ayaka's hand rested on my knee.

"Relax more. It's just us now."

Her breasts pressed against my body. Her cleavage was right in front of me.

Through her sheer blouse, the lace of her pink bra peeked out.

(Ah, this close... What would these tits sound like if I squeezed them? Squishy and bouncing back...)

My fantasies wouldn't stop. They were vividly explicit. I'd never been this close to a woman before.

Ayaka set her glass down and brought her lips to my ear.

"Your stories were fun, Shota. I want to know more about you."

Her whisper tickled my neck.

Her hand slowly stroked my thigh.

"A-Ayaka..."

My voice trembled. My cock was throbbing in my pants.

"Shh. Be quiet. This is a hidden spot, after all."

Ayaka's massive breasts pressed into my chest. The waves of soft flesh enveloped me.

Under the bar's dim lights, her fingers unzipped my fly.

"Hehe, you're so hard already. Cute."

Ayaka's hand wrapped around my cock.

Warm and soft. My veiny shaft fit perfectly in her palm.

(Whoa, she's touching it... Getting jerked off by my boss's hand—it's like a dream. Or is it real? I'm so turned on, precum is oozing out...)

I gripped the counter, breathing heavily.

Ayaka leaned in closer, rubbing her massive breasts against my arm.

The scent of sweat in her cleavage mixed in—sweet and tangy.

"Does it feel good? My hand?"

She whispered as her hand moved up and down.

Precum strung from the tip. Her fingers spread it around.

The slick sensation. My glans rubbed by her thumb.

"Ah... Ayaka, this is intense..."

My voice slipped out. The bar's background music masked our breaths.

Her breasts stayed pressed against me.

The weight of her G-cups overwhelmed me. Her blouse shifted, nearly revealing the edge of her areola.

(If I buried my face in these tits, I'd suffocate. Milky white skin, pink nipples maybe. Sucking them might draw out sweet milk... God, I'm such a perv.)

Ayaka's hand sped up.

"Don't make a sound. I can tell you're excited. Your cock is twitching."

Her whisper heated my earlobe.

My penis swelled in her grip. She stroked from base to tip.

Spring night air seeped through the window, but my body burned.

Her other hand gently massaged my balls.

"These are full too. You've been holding back?"

Her finger traced my urethra. I bucked my hips.

(My ass might even tingle... No, just imagining that has me on the edge.)

The wet sounds of her handjob echoed—squish, squish.

Every sway of her massive breasts drew my eyes.

Her cleavage glistened with sweat. Poetic, beautiful, and erotic.

Climax approached.

"Ayaka... I can't hold it..."

My cock pulsed in her hand.

"It's okay, let it out. I'll catch it all with my hand."

Her whisper pushed me over.

The press of her breasts amplified the thrill.

Spurt after spurt, thick semen erupted.

White fluid coated her palm stickily.

Hot and viscous. I shuddered, spent.

Ayaka wiped it with a tissue, smiling.

"Hehe, such a big load. Felt good?"

I could only nod. My knees were weak.

(Handjob from my boss leading to this orgasm... This isn't a dream, right? My cock's still tingling.)

We parted ways that night.

Ayaka winked, saying, "Let's talk again soon," and left.

I stumbled home through the spring office district.

My mind was filled with her massive breasts and the feel of her hand.

Later at work, our eyes met.

Her gaze was intense. Her blouse dipped low, flashing cleavage.

"Shota, I'm looking forward to today's data."

Her whisper lingered in my ears.

(Our connection might deepen... I want that closeness again. Bury my face in her tits forever...)

My days began to change. The afterglow of trust and excitement carried on like the spring breeze.