I was his... Wholly, entirely, completely... I was his cum-hungry slave, his to do with as he so pleased...
I won't get into everything we did in that shower together- suffice it to say, we stayed in there until the water began to grow cold. But once we'd dried one another off, and I'd adequately aroused him to full, erect hardness following that first explosive ejaculation, he picked me up in his arms like a groom carrying a bride, spiriting me over across the room to the bed.
He dumped me onto its surface, rather abruptly- not too hard, but just in keeping with our dominant, submissive personas. He tangled himself up in me for some time, grinding his cock up against my flesh in a dry humping movement as the two of us continued to grope and to fondle for some time, and before I knew it I was being twisted around onto my hands and knees, splayed out like a damn animal.
And he was entering me from behind...
He sliced into my pussy with that long, stiff erection of his, and I shrieked with pleasure, toes curling as he pushed up inside me, deeper, deeper, deeper, so deep that I could have cried, but only in the most desirable of ways.
And he proceeded to fuck me. To plow me, destroy me, pulverize me. That beautiful man pounded my pussy so intensely that I couldn't fucking see straight, and then he filled me up, once again, with so much of his seed, that I thought he must surely be insatiable.
He pleased me, in every possible way, throughout the course of that first evening, and foolishly, by the time it was all over, I had allowed myself to fall into the oldest trap in the book- I allowed myself to think I could be more than his mistress.
And I suppose, in my way, I was more than his mistress. There was too much respect, too much equanimity for me to be just some slut on the side... I don't know what you might have called the two of us, honestly.
But I knew it could never be anything like my emotions were telling me it should be. I wasn't going to be his damn wife anytime soon, and frankly I didn't have any intentions of being a homewrecker.
Eventually, of course, his marriage did come to a conclusion, but it actually wasn't his infidelity that brought it about- or at any rate, it wasn't that directly. Harry and his wife had, apparently, drifted apart entirely of their own volition, irreconcilable differences and all that jazz, and they'd decided, for the benefit of their daughter, that the time had come to go their separate ways.
It was totally amicable, so far as I knew. But ironically, it was at about the same time that his marriage ended, and he essentially had a free pass to fool around with young women like me to his heart's content, that the two of us reached a turning point in our own relationship with one another.
A few years had passed- good years, for the most part. And Harry had shown me a lot of what he'd known during the course of our affair together. I'd risen high up in the company, and technically speaking, Mr. Johnson wasn't actually my boss anymore. He was my superior, and had authority over me, technically, but I'd shifted to another department, and he no longer gave me orders, or interacted with me on as regular a basis. And, in fact, my new department and his sometimes butted heads about things, which created a predictable enough tension between the two of us during the day...
And I guess, in some ways, we just felt as though whatever the hell we'd been playing at up to this point had run its course. We mourned the loss of the thing, but it was just too much for us, we decided. The two of us went to our usual place, had one last round of passionate goodbye sex, and declared that the end of it.
It had indeed been a beautiful run...
I'd cried over it, just for the shortest period of time, but I eventually got over myself- aided, I suppose, by the fact that I had my own sexy young underling to seduce and tend to...
And of course, I'm referring to Mark now... It wasn't like I'd just been waiting for the moment the cord was cut between Harry and I for this to get underway- I wasn't desperate, or anything. It had almost been by chance, in fact. I'd had my share of lustful thoughts about Mark from time to time, but I felt sure a guy like him must have a girlfriend, and somehow that sort of bond must have been stronger than that shared between Harry and his wife. Perhaps him being younger than me had been part of what prevented me from trying anything.
But then one night- one late, late, late night- the two of us found ourselves staying after hours, well into the morning, working on an assignment that just wouldn't go away, and that was frustrating the hell out of us in our inability to solve the problems at hand.
We'd given up for the evening, I think, reduced to drinking, and the booze, predictably enough, driving our defenses way down... I mean, we could still tell which way was up, but we were awfully bubbly, lightheaded, and we talked with one another in ways that we might never have done in the daytime. Like equals, in a way, or at least as equal as a man and a woman edging toward a sexual dynamic with one another can truly be said to be equals.
Given our mutual state of fogginess, I couldn't say exactly what the course of the conversation happened to be, but before either one of us knew it, we were kissing passionately, tenderly... And I caught myself, in a complete reversal of roles from what I'd known in the past, pushing my tongue into his mouth, taking charge- and it sent a rush of adrenaline pumping through my body.
We pulled apart from one another, slightly disbelieving, and we simply couldn't help ourselves but to laugh, amazed at the course things had taken, and wanting to make sure things weren't getting weird for either of us. But then we leaned in and kissed one another again, clearly serving as an answer, and we felt confident enough, accordingly, to continue on in the manner we'd begun.
“Come on,” I whispered at last, “I know a place we can go...” And where, oh where did I take my sexy little lover boy for the rest of the evening? Why, I took him to the exact same hotel where Mr. Johnson and I had first consummated our whatever-the-hell-it-was- the place was reasonably close to the firm, and was a convenient place for seedy office workers to engage in secret sexcapades after hours (believe me, I'd seen other co-workers coming here at the same time as Harry and I, including one married woman who I discovered to be a closeted lesbian- lots of steamy stuff...)
Suffice it to say, Mark and I hit the bed running, wasting no time after that initial kiss in ramping things up to the extreme, and our clothes seeming, almost miraculously, to dissolve from our bodies like liquid.
What I'd liked about Harry's lovemaking was his slowness, his control, and the manner in which he seemed to be in complete authority over ever little motion, able to please me with perfect precision. Mark, by contrast, had the benefit of being younger and more energetic. His fucking was more frenzied, desperate, and this time, I had the benefit of being the one in control over what went on beneath the sheets, his superior as I was.
And I had every steamy intention of exercising that power of mine to its damn fullest extent...
We kissed, and tumbled, and made out wildly, passionately, and like I'd done for Harry that first time, Mark's kisses slipped down, down, down along my body, coating me with his essence, and I had to ball up quantities of the sheets in my fists as he at last dipped down between my thighs.
He proceeded to eat my pussy, rolling his tongue around inside me, knifing through me, pushing, twisting, slurping, devouring me, ripping dreadful moans of delight from my throat, as slowly, slowly, my legs squeezed in around his head as though to crush him, pulling him deeper into myself.
“Fuck... Fuck... Fuck... Fuck!”
I came, hard, in his face, shaking and stuttering, and almost the minute I came down from that splendid high, I pushed him onto the bed in the spot where I'd just laid, cock upward. I reached into my purse, where I had with me some accessories- don't ask me why, I just did. Namely, a pair of handcuffs, with which I affixed my new young lover to the bedposts, and a fresh, brand-spanking new, veiny black dildo... His eyes went wide at this one, and I thought I witnessed him growing just a little bit harder at the sight of it.
He allowed me to insert it into him
, despite groaning with difficulty as I did so, sliding the lubed thing up between his cheeks until it was fully buried. Then I climbed up on top of him, mounting him, and riding him, writhing my body back and forth on top of him with my hands on my jiggling breasts, slapping my cunt up against his cock with such devastating fury that it made my damn head spin.
I was dominating him, just as Harry had shown me how to dominate before, and I was riding that lucky young stud's cock like a motherfucking cowgirl...
He started to shake, and he started to cum, and I started to cum, and the two of us seemed to burst with pleasure, gasping and wheezing for several long minutes after those initial waves had subsided, and then smiling at one another, when at last we lay there sweaty and entwined on the hotel bed.
This, we knew, had been the start of something very, very wonderful...
And for the longest time it was wonderful. And I mean really, it still continued to be so. But it had been, I don't know... A hell of a lot simpler for the first several months- recently, a complication had arisen on my part, and that complication, predictably enough, came from a recurring figure in my past.
Mr. Johnson had renewed his interest in me, and at his invitation, I realized, perhaps my interest in him had never really went away to begin with- all the two of us had needed was some time apart.
And so, there I was. For the first time in my life, I was a two-timer, working double sexual duty, with two different men- my superior, and my subordinate.
____
And so, here I was. Presently sandwiched inbetween the two men in what might have been the most awkward situation of my life, with neither of them aware of the other's romantic presence in my life as far as I knew, and both of them, I knew, thinking that they alone had access to my splendid pussy.
The elevator, at this point, had been out of commission for a good hour or so, and apparently, since the electricity had been knocked out, the intercom system was completely broke as well.
“Surely they'll be having someone fix this, won't they? Any minute now,” said Mark, optimistically, maybe, I don't know... Forty-five minutes ago or so? And then again fifteen minutes later, and again fifteen minutes after that, and then now...
Mr. Johnson, by contrast, had remained all but stone silent the entire time, not having all that much to say, it seemed, but seeming to look at Mark and I in a certain way that made me uncomfortable- yet which, I can't deny, did arouse me in the slightest bit, for a reason I couldn't exactly place my finger on.
God, was it stifling hot in here... The men had removed their suit jackets, and I was routinely dabbing sweat from my forehead. I think I was the one most affected by the sweltering heat given my present state of anxiety, and no matter how hard I tried to calm down, I couldn't help but envision the situation getting a hell of a lot worse before it came anywhere near close to improving.
But then, Lord help me, something very, very unexpected happened.
I started, recoiled, nearly slammed back against the wall at the sudden, unexpected feeling of Harry's touch, reaching gently over, dabbing a droplet of sweat from my forehead on my behalf- a gesture most intimate, unmistakably so. And as I might have guessed, it spurred Mark's attention immediately, his head jerking over protectively toward me. I could tell, by the way his lip was shaking uncertainly, that he wanted to say something, but that he didn't want to give away the connection he and I shared. I guess he thought it could get us in trouble, for whatever reason...
Mr. Johnson, seeing his reaction, smiled at Mark, and then looked down at his finger, rubbing the bead of sweat in his grip until it dissipated. I waited with held breath, not having a damn clue what was about to unfold, and my nerves shot to hell when suddenly Mr. Johnson spoke up, addressing Mark.
“So, Mark... Just to pass the time while we're waiting- I have a question for you.”
Mark looked dumbly at him, clearly not having expected to be addressed, and he turned to me, as though requesting my permission to respond- of course, I had no say in this, and he realized this quickly enough, turning back to Mr. Johnson, and swallowing hard.
“Yes sir?”
“Please,” said Mr. Johnson, smiling wickedly “Call me Harry... I was just wondering... It's none of my business, really... But how are you liking Emily's vagina?”
My eyes suddenly went wide. My ears rang. I tensed up, unable to move.
I surely couldn't be hearing this correctly... How- how the hell- he couldn't possibly have known... Could he? But apparently...
“Sir?” said Mark, clearly as confused as I was, not to mention uncomfortable.
“Her pussy,” repeated Harry, as though this was the most casual topic of conversation in the world. “You're nailing her, aren't you? I'm asking you, what is your opinion of her vagina?”
I blushed, beet red, ears ringing, feeling as though the end of the world was nigh, yet unable to do a damn thing in the way of stopping it from all falling apart before my eyes.
Mark, too, seemed flabbergasted, not knowing what to do, how the hell to react to this- of course, he had to react... He feared for his job, and he knew that Harry had absolute power over him- could practically nod his head and have him executed, were that his desire.
He swallowed deep, so hard that it must have been painful, I knew. But at last he managed to muster up an answer, very awkwardly, like he was responding to a simple interview question, “Well, um... It's very tight, pink, warm... I enjoy it very much...”
Harry simply nodded at this. “Yes... Yes, that's my opinion of it as well...” And at this, Mark looked up, wide-eyed, ears even redder than mine. “What?” said Harry, as though it was surprising to him that Mark didn't know he was sleeping with me. “Oh, God... You weren't aware? Emily and I- we have sex as well...”
Mark twisted his head toward me, astonished, not knowing what to do.
And, to make the situation even more bizarre, from that point onward, nothing more was said for some time. A thick, stifling silence threatened to drown the three of us, or at least Mark and I, as we struggled to figure out what sort of shape our lives would be in by the time the elevator doors slid back open again.
But then, as mercilessly as he'd sent things crashing down, Harry mercifully intervened, putting an entirely unexpected spin on this inherently unexpected situation. “I'm not mad, you two... I'm really not... I didn't know, exactly, how to broach the subject with you- I just felt as though I had to, to clear the air... And... Mark... I hope that you aren't angry, either... With either of us...” He patted Mark on the shoulder, just like you would expect a supportive employer to do to an employee, although of course the situation in which we found ourselves was far, far from an expected one.
Mark thought for a minute, and though he could have been lying, I thought he sounded sincere, when he said feebly, “No... No, I'm not mad...”
“That's good,” said Harry, his hand still on Mark's shoulder. “Because, you know... I can really understand what Emily here sees in you... You really show promise, I think...”
At this, Mark seemed surprised once more- but hopeful this time. He lifted his eyes up to Mr. Johnson, listening intently, and I, too, found myself more anxiously on edge than I might have expected.
“Really, sir?” Mark asked, sweating harder than ever, but waiting, waiting.
Harry, strangely, took Mark's chin in his hand, a bizarrely tender gesture, as he nodded his head. “Yes... In fact, I think that, maybe, we've been looking at the situation we're in all wrong... All three of us... Three individuals such as ourselves, each acting out of self-interest... Just think what could happen, if we decided to lower our guard- to pool our collective resources...”
And then he leaned in, and Mr. Johnson kissed Mark.
Holy hell...
Mark, for a fraction of a second, seemed uncertain, but then his body relaxed, and he pushed himself forward into Harry's warm front, sincerely getting into what it was they were doing, and I could see their tongues pushing through the walls o
f one another's cheeks as they did so.
I practically had to pick up my jaw from the floor of the damn elevator by the time the two new lovebirds had pulled apart. I had long been aware of a tendency toward bisexuality in Mark. I'd suspected it, ever since that first time, back when I'd shoved the dildo up his butthole, and we'd since incorporated prostate play, pegging, and what have you into our sexual escapades.
But Mr. Johnson, Harry, well- this was entirely news to me.
But now they were turning to me, and Mr. Johnson was beckoning for me to join them, participating in the fun, as it were- and how the hell could I even think about turning them down at this point?
And so, there the three of us were, trapped in an elevator, making out like fucking teenagers, and having the time of our goddamn lives. This was not at all the direction I had anticipated my day taking, and it seemed like a dream, entirely too amazing to be fully true...
Harry's lips were on mine, sucking, slurping, rolling through me, and then my lips were on Mark's. Their tastes, so similar, yet so distinct, their flavors so specific to them, and their combination, as occasionally the two of them would lean in to kiss me simultaneously, a cocktail that I couldn't even begin to describe. Finally, Mark's lips would be on Harry's, the two of them kissing, swapping spit, and their boners pressing up against one another through the fronts of their dress pants, succeeding in making me very, very wet, unspeakably hot and bothered, nearby.
Billionaire: Menage: Swinger: Let's Swing (MMF Bisexual Romance) (New Adult Contemporary Short Stories) Page 5