Triple Threat_An MFMM Romance

by Daphne Dawn

  Wes walks around the couch again. His cock is hard and slick with our sex, bobbing a little as he walks. He sits down where he was for his blowjob. He looks at me, his eyes on my exposed breasts, first, before they slowly trail up to my face.

  “Get on,” he orders. “I want you to ride me.”

  I straighten up. My skirt is around my waist like a belt, and I’m so wet I can feel it when I walk toward Wes. He’s made me a dripping, horny mess. And I’m reveling in it, every command driving me wilder.

  I climb onto his lap. My legs are on either side of his, and I hover over his cock. I kiss him before I reach down with my hand and position him so that I can slide onto him.

  When I lower myself onto him, he groans, his face orgasmic for a moment. He closes his eyes. I sit down on him, moving a little to position him comfortably inside me. When he opens his eyes again, they’re dilated and focused on my breasts that spill out of my shirt.

  I start moving on top of him, bucking my hips, riding him. His cock slides in and out of me, and the friction is fantastic. He’s huge, and he hits me in all the right spots. Wes has his hands on my hips, guiding my movements. I ride faster and faster. I close my eyes, tip my head back and slide up and down his cock. I’m breathing hard. The sex is so fucking good, and the secrecy of it, how naughty it is, adds to the thrill. I’ve never fucked anyone in an office, and certainly never my boss.

  An orgasm starts building slowly, the muscles clenching at my core. I gasp and moan, trying to keep it down. I don’t want everyone to know what we’re doing, but it’s hard to keep quiet when the sex is this good.

  “Shh, baby,” Wes says in a low voice. He touches my throat with his fingertips, palming my neck and squeezing lightly. I gasp, shocked by how much I love the eroticism of his hand on my throat. It feels dangerous. His touch is electric. But at the same time, somehow, despite everything I know about this man, I know he won’t hurt me.

  I moan, rocking my hips back and forth. Moans continue to slip out – I’m failing to swallow them – but my gasps are breathy, and I hope they’re not too loud.

  “They’re going to hear us, Kylie,” Wes says. He’s not calling me a pet name but using my real name. I swallow and try to keep it down. When I can’t seem to manage, Wes lifts his hand to my mouth. He doesn’t cover my mouth in a way that seems forceful or rude. Instead, he pushes a finger between my lips.

  I suck on his finger, and it’s hot as hell. I work my hips around his cock, and I suck his finger the way I sucked his cock. With my mouth occupied, I don’t have a chance to make a lot of noise, and it works to keep my moans muffled. I lean forward a little, changing the angle of my hips as I ride him, and it pushes my clit right up against his pubic bone.

  It’s a little rough when I ride him, rubbing up against him like this, but the friction against my clit is just what I need. The orgasm I’d been working on suddenly shifts into a new gear. I’m getting lost in the sensation, the heat that pulses through my body. It’s like Wes ignited a spark with the first orgasm and now I’m coaxing that spark until it’s a flame. Heat spreads slowly through my body, growing inside me. I’m aware of my legs rubbing against the couch, Wes’s pants beneath my ass that aren’t as comfortable as I would like, and my blouse that restricts my breasts.

  Again, just as I think about it, Wes removes his finger from my mouth and reaches for my breasts. He cups them in both his hands for a moment before he reaches for the buttons below and undoes them one by one. When my blouse hangs open, my breasts are still pushed up by my bra.

  “It clasps at the front,” I say in a breathy voice.

  Wes frowns at me.

  “The bra. The clasp isn’t at the back.”

  I like wearing bras that clasp at the front. It’s comfortable to put on and take off, and it’s entertaining to watch men fumble, confused when they can’t find it at the back. But I’m not going to wait until we’re alone to watch Wes fumble.

  But I should have known a man like Wes doesn’t fumble. With a quick flick, Wes has my bra open, my breasts hanging free. He cups them again and kneads them for a short while before he lets them go and admires them.

  With my rocking back and forth, my full breasts swing and jiggle, and I know that men love it. Wes stares at them. His hands slide up and down my thighs.

  I focus on my orgasm again. It’s building, growing larger and larger like I’m a cup, filling with hot water, and soon I’m going to spill over.

  The orgasm builds to an insanely intense peak before suddenly washing over me. I squeeze my eyes shut and cry out, hoping it’s not too loud, and lean forward. I’m not making sounds anymore. For a moment, I stop breathing altogether. My muscles contract, my body curls around Wes’s and I press my face against his shoulder, to hell with makeup. To hell with everything apparently. Against my better judgment, I just fucked my boss. The CEO of the company I’m here to take down. Yet I can’t bring myself to regret it. In fact, all I want is to go again.

  When the orgasm fades, I can breathe again, and I’m gasping for air. My muscles clench around Wes’s cock, still pulsing. I realize he’s breathing hard, too.

  I lift myself up and look at him.

  He puts his hand behind my neck and pulls me forward for another kiss.

  Wes

  God, it’s hot when she comes. The first time was great, with her clit in my mouth and my fingers inside of her pussy so that I could feel how she contracts around me. This time, my cock is inside of her when she comes, and it’s fucking spectacular. She clamps down around my cock, and I can feel everything, the way she contracts and relaxes, the way shudders ripple through her body.

  When she buries her face against my shoulder, her body still tight around me, against me, I hold onto her. She’s so much smaller than she looks when she moves around – her personality is bigger than she is.

  Finally, after the orgasm fades, she lifts her head from my shoulder and looks at me. Her eyes are a little glazed over. When she blinks, it’s a slow blink like she’s still coming back from wherever her orgasm took her.

  I pull her toward me and kiss her. The kiss is soft and wet, my tongue sliding between her lips, and she responds with lazy circles of her own tongue around mine.

  When I let her go, she sighs. I grab her tits and massage them, kneading them, squeezing them. She’s a little bigger than what fits in my hands comfortably, and it’s perfect – I prefer more than I can handle. Her nipples are hard against my palms. I roll them between my thumbs and forefingers, tug at them. She gasps, her lips parted, her eyes still on mine.

  I still can’t tell what she’s thinking. If this is part of her plan, or if she just wants me this fucking bad. And I don’t care. I just want to keep fucking this woman and forget everything else. At least momentarily.

  I shift to the side so I can lie down. She’s still on top of me and moves with me. There isn’t a lot of space between me and the back of the couch, but she makes it work. I’m about to ask her if she’s comfortable when she moves her hips again. She clenches her walls, and I shiver. I know women do exercises for this kind of thing, but when I feel it, I shiver. Every time.

  She pauses and pulls my tie off before she starts unbuttoning my shirt. Until now, I’ve been fully dressed aside from my cock coming out of my pants like a zenith of lust. When my shirt is unbuttoned, she pushes the material out of the way. She puts her hands on my chest curls her fingers into my chest hair and leans forward to kiss me.

  Kylie starts riding me again. She moves in long, slow strokes, sliding herself up my cock until I almost slip out before she slides down again. The sex is intense, but it’s not going to push me over the edge. Part of me is happy she’s drawing it out. Part of me is wildly frustrated.

  She keeps up her slow movement her hips rolling over mine. I can feel her ass cheeks on my upper thighs, her pussy squeezing down on me. She looks me in the eye, and it’s very intimate. Eye contact is always intimate during sex.

  I look into her eyes and notice tha
t they’re not just brown. Flecks of gold are scattered through the liquid brown of her irises, and her eyes are mesmerizing.

  Maybe it’s because she’s on top of me, taking control, that I’m so intoxicated, but I get lost in the feel of her. Her hair hangs over her shoulders, brushing against my bare chest. She doesn’t flick it out of the way, move it to the side. It’s like silk on my chest, soft and gentle and erotic.

  I should be concerned. This is exactly why I needed to wait it out, not fuck her yet. I need the upper hand. If I let her get to me, she’ll win before I even know what happened. But my head’s so clouded with needy lust that I just push the thoughts aside and grab her hips, shoving myself hard up into her.

  I start moving my hips, helping her as I increase the pace. I turn my hips in circles, gyrating, moving my cock around inside of her. She gasps, her eyes surprised. I touch every inch of her when I do this, stroking different spots, and I pay attention to her breathing, her eyes. I watch her for reaction, to see when I’m hitting the right spots.

  It doesn’t take me long to find her G-spot. She’s expressive, and that always helps. There’s nothing as bad as a woman who won’t show you if she’s enjoying herself or not.

  I don’t have to wonder about Kylie. I can see every moment of our sex what she’s feeling and how much she likes it.

  Now, I’m stroking her G-spot. She’s stopped moving her body so much, and I’m a back in control now. Just the way I like it. I want her to orgasm because of my cock and nothing else. I want her to surrender to me completely.

  Her face changes. I can see she’s getting close again, and I know from what women have told me that it feels different when it’s their G-spot I’m working on. Hitting that thin line between pleasure and pain, but in the very best way. Well, I wouldn’t know. All I know is that it’s the sexiest shit on earth when a woman comes because I’m using my cock right.

  Kylie closes her eyes and drops her head. Her hair fans over my chest, and I feel her breathing against my abs. She gasps, her breathing shallow and irregular and I take it as a good sign. I move faster and faster but only as much as I can without breaking the motion. I want her to come again.

  “Come for me, baby,” I say, and I don’t know if it’s good timing or if my words push her over the edge, but suddenly she comes undone above me. Her body contracts, and I feel the orgasm rip through her almost as much as if I’m the one having it. I concentrate on keeping my own control. It’s getting harder and harder, but I’m not done. She collapses on top of me, and I let her fall apart, relishing in the idea I did this to her.

  She takes a moment to recover. She pushes herself up on my chest and looks at me through hooded eyes. God, this O face is my favorite.

  I help her off me and move to my office chair. This is a fantasy I’ve had for a long time. The chair is expensive, one of those that has more than enough room for the two of us if we’re clever about it. When I sit down, she gets the idea and climbs onto my lap again. I want her to keep riding me. I want to see her tits swinging back and forth when she rides me. I want her to come yet again before I finish, too.

  When I lean back, she shifts with me and starts rocking back and forth. The office chair can lean back a bit, and with our combined weight, it does. She rolls her hips and slides up and down my cock again. She’s so tight now, after her orgasm, and so fucking wet. Her pussy squeezes me with every stroke, and it takes everything I have not to lose it inside of her right now.

  She leans into me and lifts her hips so that she slips off me almost all the way before sitting down again. Her tits are almost in my face. I raise my head and take a nipple into my mouth, sucking hard, then bite down. She whimpers but the sound she makes is not from pain, but pleasure.

  I reach between us and push my fingers into her pussy. Her movement on top of me rubs her clit up against my fingers, and I don’t have to do much. I keep my hand there, pinched between our bodies, and I see her face flood with an echo of what I saw when she was ready to explode.

  “Wait, angel,” I say, and she stops moving. There are questions in her eyes. I pat her hip, and she lifts herself off me and clambers off the chair. I lead her to my desk and push the contents of it to the floor. It’s not a lot – a file or two and a pen holder – and lift her up so that she’s sitting on the desk. I kiss her again, tugging at her nipple before I nudge her back so that she lies down.

  I want to taste her. I want to taste us.

  When I dip my head between her legs, her thighs fall open for me. I push my tongue into her pussy and drag it over her clit, lapping at her sex, tasting what we taste like mixed together. She moans and squirms. I press one hand on her lower abdomen, hold her thigh with the other and try to keep her still. She gasps. I want her to come again. I want her cum in my mouth again.

  I would carry on with it, too, but I don’t have the patience. My cock is throbbing, and I can’t hold it anymore. I want to come inside of her. I want, no need, my release.

  I get onto the desk with her, my knees on the edge between her legs before I manage to shift and lay down almost on top of her. For the first time, I’m grateful for the big executive desk with so much space I’ve never been able to use all of it before.

  I slam into her, and she cries out but catches herself before it makes too much noise.

  When I pull out, it’s all the time I have to go slowly. I start hammering into her, fucking her hard. She gasps and whimpers and does it all quietly enough that I don’t have to worry. I pound into her, my cock slamming home and with every stroke, I can feel my own orgasm building, and her face becomes more intense.

  It doesn’t take very long. I have been working on this for a while, now. I bury myself inside of her as far as I can and release my load. I empty myself inside her hot, wet pussy, and my spasming and jerking pushes her over the edge yet again. She comes, too, her body clenching around me, working at the same rhythm, milking me.

  When the orgasm is done I collapse on top of her, and we lie on the desk in a tangle of limbs, breathing hard. Her heart hammers against my chest, and our skin is slick where we’re touching.

  Finally, I push up and pull out of her, climbing off the desk. I stand in front of her, looking down at what I’ve done. Her pussy is swollen and glistening with our sex. Her body is exposed, her tits large and beautiful on her chest, and her black skirt cuts the long, milky line of her body.

  She sits up. I tuck my cock back into my pants, satisfied now, and zip myself up. I offer her a box of tissues to clean up and turn to the window to allow her some privacy. It’s one thing to see a woman so exposed, it’s another to witness her taking care of herself after the fact. Some things deserve to stay private.

  I hear rustling, and when she finally clears her throat, I turn around to face her. She’s tugged her skirt back down and buttoned up her blouse. Her hair is a little tousled, her cheeks are flushed, and the shirt is a little wrinkled on the sides but other than that it’s impossible to tell we did anything other than discuss business together. I walk to her and cup her cheeks, gripping her jaw, my face inches away. But I don’t kiss her. Even though I’m shocked to find that I want to.

  Normally after sex, that’s it. No kissing. No intimacy. Nothing. And with Kylie, it’s even more important for that to be the case. Which is why it takes me a minute to gather my thoughts as I stare down at her.

  “We’ll have to reschedule to talk about your business plans,” I say.

  She nods, a hint of uncertainty in her eyes. She looks tired, but her eyes are bright.

  “We’ll do that.”

  She collects her bag, packing her file and leaves my office without looking back. I like that in a woman. Neediness is so unattractive after you’ve done the dirty.

  I turn and sigh, sliding my hand over my crotch.

  God, what a good fuck. I shouldn’t have done it. But I know I’d do it all over again given the chance. And I intend to make sure there are plenty more chances.

  Kylie

 
; The rest of the week is a huge anticlimax after spending Wednesday afternoon in Wes’s office. I know we shouldn’t have had sex. My job is important to me, and he’s my boss. Making sure I do what I came to RidgeCo for in the first place is even more important. But I couldn’t resist him. When I think back to it, my body remembers the feel of him buried deep inside of me and my muscles clench.

  I can’t think about him all the time, or I’ll work myself up into a state I can’t handle at work. It’s gotten me into too much trouble already. It was that good. Which is very bad.

  At least Wes isn’t around all the time. A part of me is relieved about that. He often leaves for client meetings, and I don’t see him as often as I thought I would. It’s a good idea that there is a little distance between us while I wrap my mind around what happened. I need time to work through it. I need time while the sensations that still hover over my body like ghosts fade a little. His body inside mine and the multiple orgasms are so fresh in my memory.

  Of course, it will take something just short of amnesia to forget how good Wes was, but two days is enough for me to at least clear my head a little. I never expected to react this way to him.

  In the meantime, I’m getting used to my new position and the people that work with me. I have a team that I’m in charge of as project manager, and they’ve all been very kind to me, helping me get used to it all. Everyone is positive except Leon, a senior manager that I bumped heads with from day one.

  After one week working with him, I know that it doesn’t matter what I do, I’m not going to be able to like him any more than he allows.

  Which is not at all. He’s a sour son of a bitch with an old school way of thinking and no room for change. He doesn’t like me – like at all, and I’m not sure why – and he’s not scared to make it clear.

  But what is a job without difficulties? I’m just glad about the position, the fact that I’ve been promoted after working as a mere receptionist for so long. My luck has changed, and I’m willing to take someone like Leon in stride if that’s how it has to be. If my luck holds out, I’ll be able to continue toward my goal with very few hiccups.