Mark says… A few Decembers back and, facing the prospect of spending Christmas alone for the first time in years, I found myself at a low ebb. Having split with Donna in the summer, a stopgap at work colleague Gary’s house had turned into an elongated stay. Not that Gary minded unduly, a fellow singleton, he was glad of the company and happy with the rent, besides which I happened to be his boss.
I suspected that, with the New Year pay reviews impending, he’d be expecting a better-than-average rise this time around.
Having graciously let Donna keep the car, as well as being his lodger I was his passenger on the trip into work each day. A fortnight away from Christmas and with the inclement English weather at its most mischievous, I was grateful of the warmth of the Mercedes that was Gary’s pride and joy. One of those ice-cold December mornings straight out of a Victorian Christmas card, a light covering of snow brushed the ground, supplementing the freezing rain to form huge slushy puddles. The breath from those walking on the pavement, wrapped in padded winter coats, hats and scarves, was clearly visible.
Being a passenger and not having to concentrate on the road, I didn’t notice her until the very last minute. Dashing for the bus in inappropriate heels, a white blouse and cream jacket, she really was asking for trouble. Gary saw her, however, and issuing an evil chuckle veered suddenly left to churn through a massive roadside puddle of sludge. Wheels spinning, a blanket of murky icy water flew up to splash the girl neck high, turning everything she wore black in its wake.
My colleague howled with sadistic laughter as in the rear view mirror the girl banged her fists, stamped a foot and bawled mute expletives our way. A right nasty piece-of-work at times, Gary could hardly to stop laughing throughout the rest of the journey. Pulling up in the company car park beside the office, we headed inside to join our colleagues about to embark upon another dull Monday. Still, Christmas was close and, with the festive season in full swing, the huge over-decorated spruce in reception brought some seasonal cheer, alongside the telephonists who were clearly trying to outdo one another with the largest Christmas card collection.
An hour later Jane Rees, the office manager came up to my office to reveal that our new temp had been in accident and would be late. Looking at the piles of work that had accumulated thanks to annual leave and a bad strain of the flu, I sighed. “Where does the agency find these people?” I mused, the festive spirit having quickly evaporated and not for one moment realising the journey that was about to begin.
* * *
Kate says… If I hadn’t needed the money so badly for Christmas, I’d have had no need to go temping. But I did and that was why I found myself rushing around on that horrid Monday morning. Blonde hair tied into a ponytail and smoothing the skirt down my bum, it wasn’t until reaching the front gate that it dawned upon me just how badly dressed I was. The cream jacket and skirt I’d worn to my last job a couple of summers back was totally inappropriate in the bleak midwinter. I shivered, almost loosing my footing as I stepped out onto the glazed pavement like Bambi on ice.
Seriously pushed for time, there was no turning back. I had to press on or risk being late for work on the very first day. Heading to the bus stop, I was lucky not to topple over two or three times on the way. Yet nothing could prepare me for what happened next. It all happened in a kind of slow motion. He knew exactly what he was doing, the nasty so-and-so, swerving so as to plough through the puddle to send a tidal wave of dirty slushy water all over me. Dripping from head to toe, I banged my fists and let fly with a string of expletives before breaking down in tears.
With no option but to head home to change, sobbing all the way, I knew my ‘work’ wardrobe was stretched already, the tight black skirt more apt for the nightclub than the office, the split up the side far from subtle. The only other top that wasn’t a t-shirt was a tight-fitting blouse from days gone by. Though I could hardly be described as busty, the blouse accentuated what boobs I had rather obscenely. I only hoped this firm had a relaxed attitude to dress code. I flung the heels in a bag and slipped into a sensible pair of trainers for the journey, making a note to get to the shops after work. I was so ill-prepared it was untrue.
10.30 before I made it in and, almost turning back several times, I carried on thinking only about the money and how useful it would be. Unable to locate the door – it just wasn’t my morning – I headed up the side, searching for an entrance. It was then that I noticed it, that same damned Mercedes that had drenched me in crap first thing. A black mist descended and, not really thinking straight, I moved upsides, taking out a shoe. A grimace slipped from my lips as the heel scraped the paintwork, its sound like the shrill chalk-on-a-blackboard noise from my schooldays.
Satisfied with my handiwork, leaving a nice dense scratch, I quickly changed footwear and looked around for a way in, finally locating a carousel door. It was only as I waited in the reception, cheered by the huge Christmas tree and abundance of pretty cards, that it occurred to me that the owner of the car I’d just vandalised probably worked here. Breaking out into a cold sweat and about to flee, I heard a voice in my ear. “Kate Lee?”
“Yes, that’s me,” I replied timidly.
“Jane Rees, office manager,” she introduced. “We’ll just get you issued with a pass and I’ll take you up.”
Too late now, I figured no one could possibly suspect innocent little me of inflicting the damage.
I turned a deep shade of crimson upon following Jane into the office as, standing at the coffee machine, the first person I laid eyes upon was the driver with a smug expression I’d recognise anywhere. He glanced my way, thankfully without a hint of recognition (at least that’s what I hoped), just that knowing look guys tend to give me whenever they set eyes upon me for the first time: heavy with lust and wanting. I had to run the gauntlet of a dozen more men, ranging from teenagers just out of college to those nearing retirement. A cosmopolitan bunch, they shared a collective one-track mind, mentally undressing me. “Is that the new temp?” I heard one whisper.
“Phwoar, wouldn’t ya just!” mouthed another.
You should be so lucky, I thought, making a point of glancing over my shoulder and pouting, despite having clammy hands and a heavily pounding heart. “Okay, this is where you’ll be working Kate,” Jane announced. “I’ll leave you in Kirsty’s capable hands.
And capable hands they appeared too. In her late twenties / early thirties, Kirsty Peters looked a real dish. With a brunette bob and a businesslike demeanour, she was my antithesis. Thank God the job only lasted a fortnight. She pulled up a seat and started showing me around the system. A whistle-stop tour, I was ready to begin work by 11.30. With the fax machine located at the side of my desk, it was funny how popular it proved to be over the next few hours. By lunchtime, it seemed that every guy on the floor had been over to check me out.
A quiet and uneventful rest of morning, just as well after the dramatic start, I was getting ready to go to lunch when the still was shattered and all hell broke loose. Mercedes Man, it seemed, had discovered my handiwork. He stormed down the aisle, cursing and raging and heading for one of the private offices. Even with the door shut it was possible to hear his raised voice and I felt my face redden. “It’s got a bloody great scratch down the side,” I heard him whinge from behind closed doors.
Serves you right, I thought.
The office door opened and he was preceded by the guy had I remembered had been in the passenger seat. Of medium height and build, his head was shaved, a look I had to admit I quite liked. “That’s the boss, Mark,” disclosed Kirsty in a whisper, rising to join the Pied Piper-like exodus as everyone went off to witness my malicious act of vengeance.
I let them get on with it, heading off to grab a sandwich and familiarise myself with the surroundings. Having killed the mandatory half-hour, the afternoon turned out to be less apocalyptic than the morning, spent working solidly. Having quickly picked up what was required, I was able to shift quite a few piles of work. “Wow, I’m impressed,” Kirsty enthused.
I blushed and at that moment we were joined by someone else. “Mark, this is Kate, the new temp,” Kirsty introduced.
I stood and turned to face him, holding out a hand in greeting. He took it and smiled, issuing the obligatory welcome and a look I couldn’t quite fathom. Was it possible he recognised me as the girl from the bus stop? Had he put two and two together? “How are you feeling now?” he asked in a deep voice that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand to attention.
And his smile, gosh, I nearly had to fan my face. “…After your accident,” he clarified.
“Fine thanks,” I replied, feeling my cheeks redden. “Sorry for getting in so late.”
“That’s okay. I’m impressed you came in at all.”
Everyone seemed to be impressed by me so far, well everyone apart from Gary. As he turned and walked away, Kirsty grinned. “Well it looks like you’ve won the boss over already.”
On account of the late start, a late finish was assured to make up the time or lose valuable pay. The office thinned gradually until the only sound came from my fingers clicking the keyboard. At least I imagined I was alone until a hand touched my shoulder. “Kate, would you mind coming in for second?” sounded Mark’s voice from behind.
My heart leapt as I followed dutifully and he gestured me to pull up a chair the other side of the desk. Out of the blue he asked: “Kate, um, do you know anything about what happened to Gary’s car this morning?”
My jaw dropped. Such a shock to hear those unexpected words, the guilt must have registered clearly on my face. I could feel myself overheating, throat dry.
“Well?” he prompted.
I stared up at the ceiling. How could he possibly know? Oh God I felt awful, tears welling up. “Yes, I do,” I confessed. “I did it.”
My candid admission seemed to take him as much by surprise as his question had me. He took a moment to process the information, staring into space. Then he looked over and straight into my eye. “Well, if nothing else I admire your honesty.”
I bowed my head, avoiding his piercing glare.
“You were the girl at the bus stop,” he said, before adding: “Not that that makes it right.”
“No,” I managed, then from somewhere finding the inner strength to defend myself. “It was a horrible thing to do. I was drenched through.”
“Yes it was,” he concurred
Gathering up more inner strength, I stood defiantly. “If you’re going to sack me, I’ll be off home and not waste any more of my time.”
As I headed for the door he said calmly: “Kate, wait.”
Our eyes met and he rubbed his chin. Moving back I sat down again, trembling.
Mark exhaled hard. “It’s, um, it’s not as simple as that, I’m afraid. Gary wants to involve the police.”
The revelation knocked me for six and I erupted in tears, head buried in hands. Looking up eventually, I apologised.
“The thing is, I’m in a real dilemma,” Mark offered diplomatically. Whilst I can’t condone what you did, I CAN understand why you did it.”
I looked over appealingly.
“Plus your work today has been first class,” he added, as if trying to justify things to his conscience. “AND you seem to have brightened up the office no end. AND we’re really snowed under at the moment,” he added, trying not to grin at his own pun.
I offered a forced smile.
“Okay Kate,” he said eventually, leaning back in the chair, hands behind head. “Tell me, what would YOU do if you were in my shoes?”
I shrugged. “Are you really going to involve the police?”
He let out a pained-sounding sigh. “I need to think about it. I’ll call you back in a few moments.”
I thanked him for his magnanimous approach to the sorry situation, before pulling up sharply. “Um, how did you know it was me?”
“CCTV,” he replied, hand resting on a video. “You were caught red-handed.”
I smiled awkwardly before departing. Doubtless he was thinking what a brainless bimbo I was.
* * *
Mark says… Well what a dilemma I was faced with! Never great at making decisions, being in charge of a twenty-strong team, that was somewhat worrying. The truth was I’d been promoted beyond my capabilities as a result of two former superiors moving on to bigger and better things. Rather than bring in an outsider with the requisite experience, they’d installed me in a caretaker kind of role. Things drifted like that for six months and, although far from ready, I was given the promotion on a permanent basis. Like a school uniform bought at the start of term, I’d grow into it eventually, but for now it was just a little big for me. “Oh Kate, Kate, Kate,” I sighed, fingers drumming the desk.
It didn’t help either that she was the cutest damn girl I’d laid eyes on in months. Not that that should sway my judgement… At that moment the phone rang. It was Gary and decision time. “Hi mate, did you manage to get it repaired?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he replied. “Got a fair deal too. Turns out the bodyshop manager knows my old man. Not only that…” he continued, voice lowering as if about to disclose some top secret. “I think I might have pulled the receptionist.
“So all’s well that ends well?” I suggested, trying hard to justify to myself saving Kate’s neck. “Look, I’ve been through the CCTV footage and there’s nothing on there,” I lied.
“Oh well,” he conceded. “Thanks for looking.”
“That’s okay,” I offered, secreting the tape in bottom of the desk.
Two minutes later I was standing behind Kate, dispensing the news. She could keep her job and Gary wouldn’t be taking things any further with the police. She breathed a sigh of relief and thanked me before returning to her work. “Go on, you should get off home,” I suggested. “You’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“But I’ve still forty minutes to make up,” she contested.
“Says who?” I replied, leaning over to sign her time sheet. “Go on,” I prompted, “You’ve put in good day’s work. Just try to get in a little earlier tomorrow, yeah?”
She smiled awkwardly and it took another prompt to get her to move.
After returning to the office to sign the day’s cheque requisitions and some of Kate’s dictation – most impressive typing I had to admit – I headed across the road to The White Hart. Despite being a Monday, there was a prevailing party atmosphere, courtesy of the festive season. The pub was all decked out in low-hanging paper chains, whilst spangly decorations adorned the walls and tinsel reflected back the lights of the fruit machine into which I fed a fiver. Mind wandering as the reels spun before my eyes, I found myself thinking about Kate. She’d made a huge impression in such a short space of time and I’d fallen for her in a big way. My resolution to avoid bunny boiler-types was in grave danger of being severely tested.
Having done my money in the bandit, I joined a group of acquaintances at the bar. Despite protestations to the contrary, a second drink arrived and I found myself being absorbed into a big round. In fact, it was gone eleven before I could get away, somewhat the worse for wear and stumbling into a cab.
As I drunkenly attempted to fit the key in the lock of the front door, missing the hole several times, I heard voices from within. Gary, it seemed, was entertaining. I opened the door quietly and crept through, eager not to disturb. Indeed he was entertaining, locked in a clinch with an attractive girl who, I surmised, was the receptionist from the Mercedes dealership. He must have assumed I was already in bed, for unashamedly they were getting cosy on the rug before the fire. I’m afraid to say, I was magnetised to the scene, gazing in from the doorway with voyeuristic abandon.
Gary certainly had had one hell of a result on account of Kate’s destructiveness. The receptionist was stacked like a Playboy model and her tits looked real, jiggling naturally as she rode his cock. Occasionally he’d reach up and fondle or suck the nipples as he pumped hard from the buttocks. Gary was one lucky fucker – literally. Why couldn’t I have his kind of luck? Deciding that enough was enough in my sex-starved purgatory, I headed to bed, falling into an easy snooze. I was roused momentarily by the screams and grunts as the pair came hard, before submitting once more to comforting sleep.
* * *
Kate says… Having made an extra special effort to go to bed early on Monday night, I was rewarded with a seven o’clock awakening the following morning. Another cold and shivery winter’s morning, the urge to remain snuggled in the warm air-trap under the duvet was overwhelming. But I’d pledged to get in early and hated to break a promise, especially after the huge favour Mark had done me.
Hop-skipping to the bathroom to avoid the cold floor, I ensured the shower was piping hot before slipping under a jet of water that immediately smoothed away each and each goose pimple. Mmm, that felt so good, more so when the soap touched my body, rolling down my tits in thick trails and hanging off the ends of each nipple. The soap and water felt great on my pussy too, coating the sparse thatch of blonde. I hated to admit it but I was horny as hell and all that was missing was a shower buddy. Hmm, I could think of one or two ideal candidates from the office. In fact, somewhat perversely I was quite looking forward to getting into work.
A quick stop-off at the Christmas sales the previous evening, I was able to mix and match a number of cheap purchases, plumping for a vanilla blouse and grey slacks that showed off my bobble bum rather nicely. Still a little damp from the shower, the blouse stuck to my skin, accentuating what curve there was in my tits and hips. The boots I’d bought were far more sensible for the elements and a blue Paddington Bear anorak would keep out the cold.
Tea and buttered toast wolfed down, I headed off into the dull grey and cold pre-Christmas morning. A fifteen-minute wait for the bus, as my body temperature dropped, I could feel my nipples stiffen and chafe against the lacy black bra. Unsubtle I know, but I wanted to give the men in the office an image to remember whilst they were fucking their wives or girlfriends that night, or masturbating with me in mind. A not unpleasant sensation in my tits, I felt a series of tingles down below, stifling a satisfied little sigh.
Coming to my senses, I noticed that a city gent in his fifties was watching me intently. I smiled inwardly, basking in the effect I seemed to have over men of all ages – and even a few women too. In fact, my last two lovers had been women and, at 22 I’d grown to adore pussy nearly as much as cock. Nearly, but not quite, for there was no feeling to match the sensation of a good, hard, throbbing cock banging my tight little vagina. No strap-on dildo or hi-tech vibrator could ever quite replicate that feeling.
Lost in reverie, I must have groaned aloud for, growing braver, the city gent grinned my way. When finally the bus arrived, like a true gentleman he ushered me on first. In hindsight, he probably just wanted to check out my gorgeous arse as I mounted the step. The bus full of commuters, standing in the aisle was inevitable. The city gent had managed to manoeuvre so that he stood directly behind me, physical contact unavoidable as the bus moved with an erratic stop / start motion. He was so close I could feel his racing breath warming my neck.
Wickedly I decided upon a little harmless fun, pushing my bum back into his groin and hearing a baritone gasp of surprise. It made me feel like the dirtiest of sluts as I wiggled on his bulge, mercilessly teasing a fellow who was old enough to be my father if not grandfather. As a horn screeched in the road, the driver hit the brakes and the city gent was thrust into me. I could feel his cock rubbing my arse and hear the mumbling beneath his breath. Angling to allow even closer access, well as close as two sets of clothing would allow, this was as close to sex as it was possible without losing one’s clothes and, for a girl who’d been starved of cock for a year, it felt blissful.
As the bus jerked and I stumbled, on the pretext of helping me up, the city gent placed a hand under my armpit, ensuring to get a good feel of tit. Sadly he eased off which was a shame. As we reached his stop outside the train station, he pushed past, one final feel of my arse with a firm warm hand. We exchanged knowing smiles and he was on his way, doubtless to relive the episode till his dying days. I’d bet good money he’d be on this same bus the same time tomorrow. Maybe I would too, maybe I wouldn’t.
* * *
Mark says… Typically, I awoke with the hangover from hell whilst Gary awoke to the sex kitten. Still hard at it, his bed in the next door room creaked painfully. Finishing off with a flurry, both screeched till I was forced to rise and seek solace in the bathroom. However, I didn’t make it, intercepted by my flatmate who looked like he’d just run a marathon. “Mate, I won’t be coming in today,” he wheezed, eyebrows elevating.
The thought of the lucky bugger shagging that gorgeous piece of arse all day long did little to alleviate my headache. At least Kate offered consolation, as a result of which I showered for an extra five minutes, shaved carefully and applied my best Calvin Klein aftershave. Who was I kidding?
Even with the aid of analgesics, I was feeling no better by mid morning, head thumping, throat dry and hands clammy. After constantly being disturbed in my office, I sought solace in the boardroom. With no meetings booked and being the sole keyholder, I could hide myself away undisturbed for a few hours and feel sorry for myself. Adjoining the photocopying room, it was surprising just how thin the walls were in these modern offices. I could hear the whirr of the machine, people talking to themselves and some even humming Christmas tunes. After half an hour I heard the first conversation, ears pricking up. It was Kate and Kirsty. Kirsty spoke first. “You do realise every bloke in the office has the hots for you?”
“Really? I hadn’t noticed,” Kate replied modestly, if a little untruthfully.
“Sooooooo…” Kirsty mused playfully. “Any you particularly like?”
From next door my attention was drawn raptly.
“Ooh, now that would be telling,” Kate teased.
“Jason’s cute,” Kirsty suggested.
“Nah, too young,” the temp dismissed.
“Ken’s nice in a fatherly sort of way.”
“Nah, too old,” Kate countered, before stopping sharply, reminiscing. “Oh gosh Kirsty, you will NEVER guess what happened to me on the bus this morning.”
She proceeded to tell her colleague about an incident involving a dirty old man groping her on the bus which caused my eyes to bulge, not so much at the nature of the anecdote but of the relish with which she imparted it. And what a delicious thought. Maybe I needed to get the bus more often. It was almost enough to help me forget the hangover.
“Okay, what about Gary then?” Kirsty persisted as the photocopier churned out paper.
I heard Kate giggle. She then moved closer and lowered her voice. It meant that I had to creep closer to the wall to eavesdrop. Swearing her colleague to secrecy, Kate proceeded to confess to the car-scratching incident.
“Oh Kate, you are such a bad girl,” Kirsty gasped. “Mark and Gary are so up each other’s arses that I’m amazed you’re still here.”
My brow creased at the accusation.
“In fact, I can’t believe Mark even let you come back today. Oh my God Kate, you didn’t, did you – no,not with Mark?”
Phew, I wish, I thought, and what a thought!
“Kirsty! I’m not that sort of girl,” the temp protested, before adding teasingly: “Though I probably did deserve a good spanking.”
In the next room, I blew hard. Why on earth hadn’t I thought of that at the time? Imagining Kate spread across my knee was driving me crazy with lust.
“Sooooooo…do you like him then?” Kirsty fished.
“No, silly – Mark.”
Kate made no reply. I wondered what that meant. That she didn’t deny it offered hope, though she wasn’t exactly declaring her undying love. Having finished their copying and appraisals of the men in the office, the pair wandered back to their desks.
I made a brief appearance after lunch, feeling a little better but far from good. Secreting once more in the boardroom for the afternoon, I enjoyed a snooze until five o’clock arrived. Sneaking back to my office, I busily set about fast-tracking the day’s tasks. At half past five there was a knock at the door and Kate walked in. “Can you sign my time sheet, please Mark?” she requested.
I smiled. “So, Kate, how are you finding things here?” I enquired, boss-like.
She smiled back. “I really like it. And no mishaps today like yesterday.”
We both chuckled, eyes engaging briefly before looking away. I couldn’t get the image out of my head that she, damn her, had planted, of being stretched across my knee as I spanked her lovely little arse. It was most disconcerting. I sent her on her way, regretful after at not having suggested a drink or something. It was the ideal opportunity wasted.
An hour later I was on my way home, thankful after a damp bus journey that was nothing like Kate’s to see Gary’s note disclosing he’d be out all night. The place to myself, I spread out on the sofa and watched three hours of trash TV. It was nice doing nothing, my last early night that week. Tomorrow a few of us were being taken out for a meal by one of our suppliers, on Thursday I was at a conference that would doubtless degenerate later into a heavy drink-up and Friday was the office Christmas party.
A real shame Kate couldn’t go, head office decreed it was for full-time staff only. In any event, our prescribed table limit of sixteen had already been reached. No bad thing, Coxmore Country Club rarely failed to throw up nice surprises, year in, year out. For although WE were a predominantly male group, many different organisations filled the other tables. We got to mix with groups of nurses, supermarket checkout girls and hairdressers, all of whom naturally enjoyed a favourable female: male ratio. Once the meal was through and the tables moved aside, it tended to be a free-for-all. Having been in a relationship the past three parties, this year I had a lot of making up to do. And I figured that even if I didn’t happen to get lucky on the night, there was always Kate to look forward to the following Monday. Life actually felt good for the first time in six months.
Wednesday went by unspectacularly. The meal in the evening was so-so without ever threatening to become one of the great nights out from history. And at least it was free.
Thursday was similar, until deep into the afternoon when Kirsty came to see me. “Mark,” she began, all doe-eyed innocence and pouting lips as I glanced up, entreating her to continue. “Do you think Kate come on the works do tomorrow?”
Hmm, I wish, I thought, bearing in mind that as each day that passed she seemed to grow lovelier and lovelier. “You know it’s for permanent staff only,” I responded. “Besides which our table is already full.”
“Couldn’t we squeeze her in?”
Again, I bloody well wished we could but we couldn’t. “Sorry Kirsty, but no.”
“Ah well, worth a try,” she shrugged and did an about-turn.
Fate tends to work in the strangest ways and I’d barely got back to what I was doing when the phone rang. I’d hardly seen Gary all week, and here he was on the line. He was going to take off the rest of the week, he disclosed, adding sheepishly that he wouldn’t be able to make the party. I exhaled hard. For Gary to miss THE event of the year, it must be love. Putting the phone down, I rubbed my chin. The company would lose its £50 fee if Gary didn’t go, but I couldn’t just allow Kate, a temp who’d been working with us for less than a week, to step in. Quickly I fired off an e-mail to the department:
“Gary’s still feeling poorly and has dropped out of the party. Anyone have any suggestions?”
A dozen replies came back in double-quick time, all proposing Kate’s name.
I wandered out into the department and explained to everyone why, in theory, it couldn’t be Kate. But what if she paid the £50? Someone suggested. Sadly, as Kate was quick to point out, she couldn’t really afford that much money. In seconds, Jason had organised a whip-round, collecting £40. All eyes on me, I donated the extra tenner. To everyone’s joy, Kate would be going to the party.
* * *
Kate says… Friday dragged by, especially as I worked through lunch in order to leave early. I could hardly believe how generous everyone had been and probably owed quite a few favours. As Kirsty and I were the only girls going, she suggested we get changed at hers. I arrived with a bottle of wine to get the evening off to a good start though Kirsty was one step ahead, with a bottle already chilling on my arrival. So we put mine in the fridge for later and made a toast to enjoying yourselves and having loads of fun. “You know Kate,” observed Kirsty with an awkward smile. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before.”
I returned the smile and assured her that there were millions of girls around just like me. A sigh met my words. “Well, none I’ve met,” she mused.
“So, do you meet many girls when you’re out and about then?” I enquired, fishing for information.
She blushed but said nothing.
“Look, I’d better be getting showered,” I pointed out, glancing at the clock and necking the wine.
“Um Kate,” she mouthed. “Don’t lock the door. I’ve, um, some fresh towels to drop in.”
The steaming shower felt wonderful on a body that had been ravaged by the elements all week and chilled by the glass of wine, imparting an immediate rosy glow. Lines of soapy gel caressed my skin as it descended, licking at my breasts and swirling at my feet as the week’s fatigue was washed away.
Through the glass, thick with condensation, I watched the door open and Kirsty creep in tentatively. Turning off the flow, I brushed the excess water off the edges of my breasts and squeezed the ends of my hair before surprising Kirsty by retracting the shower door and stepping out to stand naked before her. I could see the lump in her throat and hear her breath quicken. Conquering her reticence she stood her ground, allowing herself a long lingering look at my naked body, feasting on my pert tits and trim blonde bush. Turning away from her I said: “Put the towel around me please.”
She took a step forward and wrapped the soft towel around my shoulders, rubbing them. “Mmm, that feels nice,” I gushed, turning to face her.
We stood level, appraising one another. As we moved in closer, it was my neck that craned, head twisting to avoid a clash of noses. “Oh Kate…” she began before the words were muffled in my lips.
The towel slipped off to pool at my feet and I brought her to my wet body. Reaching around, we stroked one another’s necks as our lips made little popping sounds upon contact. Drawing back, the huge grin on my face was mirrored on hers. “I’ve wanted to do that all week,” she admitted.
“Me too,” I concurred, gazing at her t-shirt that was all damp from my body and sticking to her braless breasts.
With that we pushed our faces together once more, mouths parting this time to allow two eager tongues to rove eagerly. Kirsty’s heart was pounding into my breast, muted only by her heavy breathing. Pulling away again, she lifted her arms and allowed me to remove the t-shirt as she tugged down her shorts till both of us stood naked. I absolutely adored her tits, a generous c-cup with massive swollen purple areolae and blunt nipples. Taking my hand I let her lead me off to the bedroom.
A new kind of experience for me: at the age of 22 I’d been with older women with more experience and younger girls with less experience but never an older woman with less experience. As we lay down on our sides on the bed, facing each other and supported by an elbow, breathily Kirsty admitted that this was her first time. She’d fantasised about women but had never taken it any further. I reached out to stroke her hair, gaining assurance that she wanted to continue. She nodded enthusiastically.
My body still a little damp from the shower, our flesh glided as I craned, angling my lips to her nipples. She gasped as my tongue snaked out to graze the edge before running it around the erect teat. Lifting her fulsome breast to my lips, I sucked purposefully. She moaned lightly, fingers raking the duvet cover. Shifting onto her back, she gazed in wonder at the ceiling as I towered over her. Knees raised, but quaintly pushed together, I stroked her outer calves. Caressing upwards, I reached the kneecaps and parted her legs, stroking an inner thigh as she let them part, eyes clenched tight.
Taking a moment to admire her lovely-looking pussy, all brunette curls and plump lips, I resisted the temptation to touch her there, palm moving to the area of flesh beneath her navel. This continued for a minute or two as she purred contentedly. Nearer and near I moved my fingers until finally I was stroking the boundaries of the pubic hair. And then, when she thought she might explode, I went for it.
So intense was the foreplay and so full of anticipation was Kirsty that it needed the merest touch, the dip of a fingertip, to make her writhe and, dare I say, cum hard. And I hadn’t even got near to her clit yet. Removing the juice-stained digit, I tasted Kirsty’s pussy on it. It was divine, musky yet with a sweet palate all of its own. I couldn’t wait to lick that gorgeous crack and feast upon her hidden delights.
Yet, conscious of time, I kissed her and made a heartfelt promise: if we didn’t pull any decent guys at the party we could always play with one another. Kirsty loved that idea, a win-win situation if ever there was one. Hurrying her off to shower, I was tempted to join her, stopped only by the thought of getting all wrinkly. Well we couldn’t have that, could we?
Instead I had a little lie-down on Kirsty’s bed before rising to dress. As she came in, all sweet-smelling and damp, her eyes very nearly popped out. “Oh my God Kate, you are NOT going to wear that!”
Okay, let me describe that particular top. Silver and see-through polyester, it comprised horizontal bands in a chain-mail effect, every other band a see-through one. As it stretched over my breasts, lines of flesh were unveiled like a blind on a window. Tantalisingly it stopped short, just above the navel. The skirt I’d chosen to accompany it was equally revealing, micro of course in powder blue. “You don’t like?” I enquired with a little girl pout.
“Oh I do, I do, but in THAT you can’t fail to pull,” she replied with a frown, remembering my promise from earlier. “God, Kate, you are soooooooo going to put me in the shade tonight.”
I had to admit that the white and orange blouse with flared sleeves she’d chosen for the occasion did look a little staid in comparison. Reading my mind, she discarded the top and searched feverishly in the wardrobe for something that was, dare I say it, a little sluttier. I moved in closer to help, our hips brushing. “I haven’t worn anything that end of the rail for years,” she dismissed.
“Maybe that’s what you need then,” I countered, removing a basque-type top in red and black that looked straight out of Moulin Rouge.
“I cannot wear that!” she protested. “God knows what I was thinking when I bought it…”
“Be a devil,” I prompted, “You’ll look gorgeous, I promise.”
“Kate no, I can’t…”
“Okay,” I agreed. “But, just for me, show me what it looks like on you.”
With a little further cajoling, she consented. Wow, it was tight, yet it displayed her curves superbly as her breasts lifted and pushed together to form the cleavage of all cleavages. “Oh, you simply must wear it tonight,” I gushed.
“Kate, no,” she argued, making to undo it.
“Damn Kirsty, have you seen the time…?”
Outside a horn sounded. Looking at Kirsty and seeing my own reflection, I didn’t for one minute imagine it would be the last horn of the evening. Was I feeling horny or what? “Quick, the minibus is here,” I squealed. “No time to dither or they’ll go without us.”
You should have seen their expressions as we boarded the minibus, fourteen pairs of lustful eyes mentally undressing us, if that were necessary. As I passed Mark and took the seat behind, I gave him an extra special smile.
* * *
Mark says… I was hoping for a good fun night, playing the field as only a single man can, perhaps picking up a few phone numbers along the way and maybe even a couple of slow dances at the end. I might even have tried to bed any half-decent girl showed a passing interest or was drunk enough not to care. But all that changed when Kate climbed aboard the coach. I was absolutely smitten and all else paled into insignificance.
Glancing around the seat as the journey started, I complimented Kate and Kirsty on how gorgeous they looked. It wasn’t just my being magnanimous or trying to make it less obvious how much I fancied Kate, Kirsty genuinely looked stunning too. They thanked me and said that I looked smart too – liars! The three of us flirted innocently throughout the journey though with thirteen other men on the coach, I knew my work would be cut out.
Upon arriving at Coxbourne Country Club, we hung our coats and jackets in the cloakroom, all eyes understandably on Kate. As she moved, the top was prone to revealing flashes of breast. Yet she seemed to bask in the attention, no hint of self-consciousness and comfortable with her body. At the same time, however, she wasn’t in the least bit unapproachable as so many stunning girls can be.
A free bar – well for £50 you’d expect nothing less – I organised a round as the others took their seats for dinner. Last to arrive at the table, I found myself as far away from Kate as was possible. Whilst I could have exercised my seniority to turf Jason out of his seat, I figured there’d be time enough with Kate. The night was young and I could hardly blame anyone for trying it on with the beautiful and vivacious temp.
The meal was top quality, as we’d come to expect over the years, padded out with small talk, cracker pulling and joke telling as the wine flowed. At the end, the youngsters, including Kate, did a round of shots, whilst the rest of us, the oldies, enjoyed a more traditional brandy. The DJ arrived and, as the tables were moved to the sides, little groups started forming in pockets of conversation.
A few more rounds of drink and the first of the girls – the nurses – took to the dancefloor, as the guys ran the rule over from the wings. A typical Christmas party, spirits were high on the promise of what was to come. Soon the hairdressers were up too, and the party got into full swing with some seasonal favourites, Wham, Slade, Shakin’ Stevens and all.
An hour later and, with no sign of Kate, I carried out a circuit of the venue without success. Cursing my procrastination, I imagined that some other lucky guy would by now be monopolising her.
As another hour passed without any sign, and I was beginning to get drunk on Apple flavoured Hooch, I had almost put Kate to the back of my mind as I eyed up one of the nurses. A hint of reciprocation, I was just about to make a move when Kirsty stepped in between us. “Have you seen Kate?” she shouted into my ear above the music.
“Not since the meal,” I hollered back. “I assumed she was with you.”
“I assumed she was with YOU.”
I was flattered but regrettably had to deny the charge. We moved in among those on the dancefloor, but to no avail. She wasn’t at the bar either, nor an adjacent room set aside for those who didn’t want to be deafened by loud music. In addition, none of the colleagues we bumped into had seen her either, much to their regret.
Looking at one another quizzically, we decided to split up and go search. “I’ll go look outside,” I offered, not much relishing the prospect of the freezing night but deeming it my duty as the most senior member of staff.
As I headed to the cloakroom to get my coat, Kirsty went off upstairs.
* * *
Kate says… I awoke, not quite sure where I was, head spinning. It wasn’t a bed but it was nice and soft and very comfortable and I wasn’t inclined to move. Unused to drinking in this quantity, I’d passed out. Hearing a voice speak my name, opening my eyes the realisation dawned that I was in the cloakroom. A pile of overflowed coats that the pegs couldn’t accommodate provided my nice soft seat. “Mark, hi,” I replied, trying not to sound too drunk.
“We were getting worried about you,” he said with a smile. “The party’s just getting going and everyone’s asking where you are. Are you coming back in?”
“My legs have gone to sleep, not sure I can manage it,” I countered.
“Probably a wise choice, music’s too loud anyway,” he imparted, before adding: “God I’m showing my age.”
With that he sat down next to me on the pile of coats. I sat up and apologised for my drunken performance.
“Kate, there’s nothing to apologise for,” he began. “I’m just glad to see you’re safe and sound.”
Rooted to the spot as he tilted his head, before I knew what was happening, our lips touched. At first it came as something of a shock that Mark would attempt this but, when I realised just how good it felt, I kissed him back, with real passion.
As we pulled apart, he seemed pleasantly surprised by the reaction and the strength of my kiss, his smile radiant. Moving back close, a pair of strong hands roamed all over my back as his tongue slid against my lips that parted quickly to allow entrance. His tongue slipped against mine, making sensuous and wet contact and I found myself moaning softly as his hands slid down beneath my bottom and pulled me more tightly to him. As he rose to stand I followed, our lips never once breaking contact.
Rocking gently together like we were dancing, the dull phud of the muted disco provided the beat. We continued that way for some time before Mark felt the growing need to move on. His hands moved off my bum and up my sides, moving around to the front. His fingers moved slowly and deliberately down my front, teasing each breast through the top until I lifted my arms.
The soft and gentle yet firm contact of his fingers was beginning to arouse me and I found myself swaying on unsteady feet. I moved them further apart so as not lose balance, though somehow I knew he’d catch me if I fell. A heave upwards and the top was off, leaving me down to a bra that was quickly removed by my boss’ sure fingers.
My head tilted back, eyes closed and mouth open as I gasped with the pleasure of his touch. As his fingertips made contact with my bare body, he leaned forward and kissed my neck. Such intense pleasure, a hoarse moan vibrated from my lips. His palms elevated until they were resting along the outer edges of my breasts, lightly caressing the skin there and passing an electric sensation between them.
His kisses moved from my neck, across my shoulder, and then slowly, ever so slowly, down to the left breast. I moaned aloud as his lips began to caress the flesh of my tit, arching my back and pressing into his mouth as his tongue roved across the nipple. Angling, he nuzzled the aroused teat, sucking it into his mouth and letting his tongue slide full length across the erect little nub.
I sighed in pleasure as the wet warmth engulfed my breast. Mark continued licking and sucking before moving across to the other boob, repeating the process, only more slowly if that were possible. My fingers reached to rake his scalp, holding his head firmly against my chest as I mewed continuously.
Finally, when it felt like my breasts might explode, Mark eased back, stopping momentarily and seeking unspoken permission to continue. I smiled my assurance and, bending down he began to slide his mouth further down my body, maintaining a light contact. He’d stop every so often to kiss and lick at the flesh, taking time to let his tongue dance around my navel, causing me to squirm appreciatively above him.
As finally he reached the waistline of my skirt, his fingers fumbled at the buttons. I aided the process by reaching behind and reaching in to loosen my thong, letting it slide free down my long legs until I was naked beneath the skirt. Knowing that on the other side of that light piece of fabric my bare pussy awaited, Mark’s hands were shaking in anticipation.
It took a little longer than it should have to undo the buttons of the skirt which dropped slowly down my hips to join the thong on the floor. His eyes were riveted on my crotch, the soft and downy blonde pubic hair causing him to sigh. Beyond them, I could tell that my pussy lips that were pouting, full and glistening with my juices.
Extending his hands to push me back into the soft padded coats on pegs, he waddled in closer on his knees. Crotch high, he couldn’t resist the urge to taste, tongue sliding out as he leaned in. Turned on by now, I could feel the juices building deliciously in my loins. He slipped his tongue across my swollen lips and I shuddered, releasing some juice into his waiting mouth.
He repeated the motion achieving the same result, only more fruitful, a veritable flurry of pussy juice. Then, taking firm hold of my buttocks, he began to lick in earnest, moving his tongue lightly and rapidly across my flesh, probing the opening. I writhed above him, hands held high to steady myself, gripping the tops of two pegs.
Lifting my legs, I kicked out, wrapping my knees tightly around his head and pulling him closer to my gaping vagina. It was a wonder he didn’t suffocate but instead carried on licking urgently, tongue fleeting across my labia and teasing me like crazy. Just when I thought he might draw back and leave me on the verge, his tongue extended almost telescopically, moving up to circle my now-exposed and obscenely swollen clit. He flicked his tongue lightly over it, causing me to squeal in ecstasy. As I gripped the pegs so tightly it hurt my palms, he did it again and again and again, and then seemed to suck the little nub into his mouth.
As he did that, I let out a loud and unadulterated groan and began bucking against him. I wanted as much of him inside me as he could give. His tongue was like a chameleon’s, flicking wildly. As the orgasm ranged close, my juices flowed out uncontrollably, coating his chin. He let his tongue slide out momentarily to collect some of the wonderful nectar, before popping it back in and wiggling till I convulsed all over him. I squealed, experiencing the most amazing orgasm for quite some time, perhaps the best a guy had ever managed to give me, especially orally. God only knew what his cock was going to be like and I shuddered at the thought.
As the slow tunes began in earnest in the main hall, we gathered up our discarded clothes and dressed quickly. Just as well, for at that moment we were no longer alone. “Oh, you found her then,” Kirsty observed.
“I did,” Mark replied, guiltily moving to wipe a backhand across his lips.
Surely Kirsty couldn’t have failed to notice the reek of pussy on the air. Indeed, before Mark was able to clean his face properly, Kirsty had pressed her lips to his, making a move on my man. I watched dumbfounded as she moulded her face to his. Breaking away she purred, complimenting me on the taste. “I think we should continue this in your room, don’t you think?” she suggested, displaying a newfound boldness.
“Yes, um, why not?” Mark mumbled.
“It’s your lucky night,” I whispered, taking his arm on the left as Kirsty took the right.
The poor boy looked white as a sheet.
* * *
Mark says… Well what an amazing turn of events, one minute I was downcast contemplating making a move on the first girl that showed a passing interest and now, here I was heading to my room with Kate and Kirsty. Whilst I had little doubt that alcohol had played a major part in the decision, what was a guy to do? Besides which, tasting Kate’s delicious pussy had given me the most massive and throbbing erection that just wouldn’t abate.
Little preamble, both girls, it seemed, were equally as horny as I was, flirting with one another as they plotted the next move. “So, you want me like this, Markie?” Kate teased, hands placed on top of the bed, bum wiggling.
“Wow yes,” I enthused, moving in close to smooth the tiny skirt up off her thighs.
Taking a moment to admire her round and exposed arse, my breath raced as I reached to remove the thong. Almost subconsciously, however, my hand was drawn to beneath to her crotch, fingertips making contact with the underside and rubbing her damp pussy lips through the nylon barrier. Kate gasped and arched back as if trying to get more of my digits inside. Moving my hands to the sides, I hooked my thumbs through the side bows and yanked down.
As the thong came away and eased down her thighs, a string of dew stretched from Kate’s pussy to the sticky crotch. Was she aroused or what! Kate sighed as the cool air of the room brushed over her freshly-exposed moistness and she begged me to fuck her. Suddenly a wicked thought came to mind. “I think I still owe you this,” I stated.
With that I raised a hand shoulder high, holding it there momentarily as Kirsty gazed on, eyes bulging. Kate, on the other hand, had no idea of my intentions, the lips of her pussy pouting in readiness. Palm chopping through the air, I dispensed a volley of spanks to the sexy temp’s lovely round butt cheeks. As much in surprise as pain, she squealed, sucking in air and offering heightened protests. Yet a leaking pussy gave her away totally. Taking a moment to compose, she observed over her shoulder: “Kirsty’s been a bad girl as well.”
Glancing across, I noticed the horrified look that suddenly took up residence on the other girl’s face. I gestured to her to move over and onto her front. When she refused, I raised my voice, exuding power – at least I hoped. Grudgingly she moved next to Kate, bum raised and bracing herself. Again I took a moment to let the tension build. Kate held her friend’s hand and offered whispered reassurances.
Taking a breath I let rip with half a dozen lighter spanks, figuring she might not share the same constitution as Kate. I think Kirsty was quite amazed at how erotic and sensuous the experience proved to be. By the end she was purring and would gladly have taken six more, of that I was sure. But the moment had passed and soon she and Kate had turned their heads and were kissing passionately as they ‘comforted’ one another.
The swish of a zip from behind made both girls brace visibly in anticipation once more. I reached to stroke a cock that was as rockhard as it had been for years. Donna was a sexy woman but these two were off the scale. Precum plentiful too, generous globs of the stuff stained the face as I drew back the foreskin. My eyes darted from Kate’s wispy blonde pussy hair to Kirsty’s brunette curls and back again. Both shared a common trait: lovely ripened cunt lips that craved to be fucked.
Wasting no more time, I moved my cock between Kate’s legs. Letting it rest in the groove of her labia, juices leaked onto the cock head, lubricating it for the task ahead, if that were needed. At the same time I reached over and pushed two fingers into Kirsty’s crack. Drier than Kate’s, that was like some lush oasis, it took a little probing to bury past the knuckle, yet it wasn’t long before Kirsty’s juices were flowing freely too. As they were fucked and fingered in unison, both girls let out a little whimper of lust, sealed with a sloppy kiss across the bed.
The first thrust into Kate’s cunt made an instant connection and she moaned loudly, revelling in the feel as it stretched her pussy walls. Half-submerged in her snug little vagina, I exhaled and eased back before pressing in at a more favourable angle, slipping further down. I moved inside her until finally my thick cock was buried fully in her lovely pussy. I held for a moment, savouring the feel. Building a slow steady rhythm, I matched it stroke for stroke with my finger movement inside Kirsty, occasionally brushing a thumb over her clit. All three of us were in rapture.
* * *
Kate says… The lovemaking was smooth and slow at first, as Mark found his feet. His cock felt sublime, pulsing and bulging and jerking inside my lovely tight pussy, yet I craved more. “Faster, Mark,” I exhaled quietly, not as an order, just to let him know what I wanted.
He readily complied, still not ramming, but sliding in and out with an increased urgency. Oh, that felt so much better, hard and firm and purposeful. “Yesssssss,” I mouthed in encouragement, causing him to up the tempo even more noticeably until our flesh was slapping.
Next to me I could hear Kirsty moaning also as Mark’s fingers moved in and out of her pussy with the same urgency as his gorgeous thick cock in mine. Pounding now, his strong thighs slapped my buttocks repeatedly as he worked me up into a frenzied point of no return. On the bed, mine and Kirsty’s tongues were locked around one another, saliva dribbling down our chins as we sucked and licked. Finding an incredible higher gear producing a powerful action the likes of which I’d never felt before, Mark banged his cock deeper, stretching the pussy walls and nudging my cervix. “Fuck meeeeeee!” I moaned in encouragement.
I could tell Kirsty was getting close too, for when I opened my eyes I saw hers all glazed and her breath coming in fits and starts. It was then, with perfect timing to prolong matters, that Mark dictated a change of positions by flipping me over and onto my back. Despite her relative inexperience, Kirsty knew exactly what was required, an exchange of glances with Mark and she climbed over to straddle my face. Taking my ankles she drew them right back, exposing my pussy to him.
I gasped as I felt Mark push forward and back inside my vagina, his bloated cock head working its way in deep like a power tool. However, the resultant gasp was muffled as Kirsty rocked into place, positioning her sopping wet pussy over my mouth. Almost choking, a little flick upward with my tongue and I was inside her wet pussy, licking as if my life depended upon it. It was hard to concentrate on Kirsty’s slit and clit, however, on account of Mark’s urgent thrusts into MY pussy that kept jerking my body away.
Blind to what was happening between the other two, I could nonetheless hear them kiss passionately. A little pang of jealousy – I wasn’t quite sure who the jealousy was directed towards – was quickly dispelled as moans turned to gasps and my orgasm ranged in. My snatch-embedded face twisted into a mask of pleasure as my pussy tightened on his cock.
A primal grunt from Mark preceded the huge spurt that made me scream mutedly as he ejaculated hard, filling me full of thick creamy cum. And he just kept cumming and cumming, milking till his balls were surely empty. Seconds later, with his spunk sloshing around in my pussy and womb, I came spectacularly too, body jerking like I was being electrocuted. The knock-on effect made Kirsty cum hard on my face, peppering me with bittersweet speckles of pussy juice.
* * *
Mark says… After that mind-blowing threesome with Kate and Kirsty, I’m ashamed to say, though not surprised, that I fell straight to sleep, awakening in the early hours to the squeak of bedsprings. Glancing down I witnessed my cock standing proudly and the girls still fondling one another. “About time,” teased Kate as she saw my eyelids retract. “Go on, touch it then,” she mouthed, kissing her friend’s earlobe.
Without needing further prompting, Kirsty reached over and wrapped a hand around the shaft, giving it a gentle squeeze. Still a little sticky with a cocktail of my own cum and Kate’s juices from earlier, Kate squealed with delight, knowing exactly what she wanted to see. “Suck it!” the temp ordered, clearly in charge of the situation despite her tender years.
Kirsty bent dutifully and took my manhood in her lips, cradling the head before gliding her tongue across its expanse. Lying back, I revelled in the feel of Kirsty’s warm wet mouth and talented tongue. Yet slow and gentle clearly weren’t in Kate’s vocabulary. Moving in close, she whispered in my ear: “Fuck her face, Markie!”
It was incredible how deceptive appearances could be. The cute little temp who’d walked into the office less than a week earlier was nothing less than a lust-crazed firecracker. Eager to please, I repositioned until I was kneeling before Kirsty on the bed. My cock slid in until her nose was buried in my nest of wiry pubic hair. I had to hand it to Kirsty, she took it deftly and without a hint of gagging. With that, and with Kate stroking my chest, I began to pump furiously, using her friend’s mouth as a fuck-hole. Kate seemed to love it, squealing her pleasure as I face-fucked her friend hard and unerringly.
Fast approaching a second orgasm, I drew back right on the point of cumming. Squeezing at the base of my cock head, I felt the spunk build up to bursting point. Letting go, the resultant spurt flew diagonally across Kirsty’s face, painting her lips, cheeks and brow. As my orgasm persisted for an inordinate amount of time, I emptied a couple of smaller loads in her pretty face before I was done.
Thankfully Kate was on hand to help her friend clean up, both girls ensuring to swallow every drop of cum before Kate was satisfied. Only then were we allowed a proper sleep, squeezing into the double bed and spooning one another.
There were embarrassed looks in the morning, but memories that would remain with me forever.
And after that, life in the office would never be the same again.