No surprise there then

For the sake of narrative continuity I have been concentrating my recent blogging on reporting what happened over the course of last weekend and I must say that I’m really rather proud of my exploits.

Although I’m perfectly happy to admit that Paul can be a total shit most of the time, he does have a side to him that can pick up on what I’m thinking. I wouldn’t go as far as to suggest that he is particularly sensitive – that would be quite laughable – but he can totally pick up any sexual vibe I may be giving out. Of course it’s not rocket science to work out that if a girl you’ve been fucking lets you stick your hand up her skirt at work, there’s quite a strong probability that she’ll be perfectly happy to be fingered.

The truth is that as I’ve been thinking about the events of the weekend with Ted and Lora and subsequently been writing them up, I have been as horny as Hell!

What this all means in practical terms is;

Paul wants to finger my cunt on Monday afternoon, so I let him finger my cunt as he reads one of the reports he’s asked for.

On Tuesday Paul wants to take me out for lunch at Pizza Express and get sucked off in the toilets, so after a Caesar Salad, he leaves a little extra salty salad dressing in my mouth downstairs in the gents.

Then on Wednesday he asks me why I’ve been such a randy little whore this week. Not being one to hide my light under a bushel, I let slip that I’ve had an amazing MFF threesome at the weekend. I didn’t name names, Lora would never forgive me, but that certainly grabbed his libido by the lapels and gave it a good shake.

He asked me to stay late (no surprise there then) and as the office emptied he came over to my desk. He asked me if I still had the butt-plug in my desk, and forgetting about my oath to let Ted, Lora and anybody else that might come along use it on me first, I opened my desk drawer to show him where it’s laid since the embarrassing day with the spotty boy from the post-room.

A little later in his office he opened a bottle of bubbly from the fridge he has well stocked for company celebrations and poured me a glass. He asked me to sit on his desk in front of his chair. As I perched there I knew he could see up my skirt and I parted my thighs to let him see that I was wearing the white satin knickers I had worn for him when he didn’t show up and I fucked the Irishman instead. Paul stroked my cunt through the wet satin.

“Tell me about your weekend”, he said.

I told him about the conversations and web-cam. I described the trip – I stopped myself mentioning Brighton – across town on the tube and flashing my cunt to the boy from John Lewis. And then I told him about the Irishman fucking my anonymous friend while I watched. I said that my friend and I had been planning it, and that we had conspired to bring Ted to her bedroom so that she could experience anal sex.

Paul pushed me backwards across his desk. His hands reached up my skirt and over my hips and he pulled my little white knickers off. With my skirt up around my waist and my panties off I opened my legs wide and toyed with my clit in front of him. I described how Ted had slipped from my friend’s arse just before he was going to cum and how he had covered my tongue with spunk as I took his cock in my mouth. I felt Paul push the butt-plug into my pussy. I knew he was doing it to lubricate it, and after he wiggled it inside me to coat its surface, he withdrew it and forced it up my bum in an aggressive shove. I loved how it felt inside me, but not as much as I loved the look on Paul’s face as he held my knickers against his nose as he wanked himself off.

My pussy felt completely powerful as he covered my nibble fingers and my tattoo with his sticky thick semen.