After several years of university, I decided it was time to leave study behind for a while and get a full-time job.

Truth was, I hadn’t been too successful at uni and had switched courses on several occasions hoping to find the one that I’d really enjoy and apply myself to. But each time, it was the same. I’d be all enthusiastic for a few weeks and then I’d decide that partying was more fun and my studies would suffer.

Plus, my Austudy was a pittance and at twenty-two years of age I was sick of having no money; at least, none of my own.

My boyfriend Jarrod earned a good wage and was always trying to help me out and buy me things and pay all the rent etc., but I hated having to rely on him. So, I decided to put some of the legal studies skills that I’d learned way back in high school to good use. Fortunately, I got the first job that I applied for. And I’m not convinced that it was purely due to my ability to type eighty words per minute.

The job was with a suburban solicitor by the name of Mr. Granger. He was a middle-aged, rather unkempt, slightly overweight man with permanently messy hair who seemed far more interested in my cleavage than my resume. And I certainly didn’t think that I had dressed particularly provocatively for my job interview. It was a warm day, so I’d just put on a black tank top under a dark grey blazer. But it seemed to work for Mr. Granger.

He also seemed more interested in what I did in my spare time than what work experience I had - which was bugger all! But none of that bothered me. He was friendly, respectful and seemed genuine. Plus, a little flustered. I wondered if that was because of me. It bemused me somewhat to think it may have been.

Anyway, whatever, I got the job!

My first few days there were a lot of fun. I was looking forward to my first pay packet and the independence of having my own money. I loved traveling on the tram to work every morning with all the other important, smartly dressed, professional-looking people with their serious faces reading news apps on their phones. I felt like I belonged because, for the first time in my life, I too had an important job to go to.

Mr. Granger (let’s call him Paul) was clearly very good at his job and was highly respected by his clients. And they were many. He was constantly busy. And it was obviously hard for him to find the time to train me properly. I got the firm impression that the woman I replaced had left somewhat abruptly and so I was kinda thrown in the deep end.

But it started becoming obvious that Paul was quite nervous around me. He was always looking down my top, but to his credit, he tried very hard to hide it and any time that I caught him he would hurriedly look away.

But I didn’t mind at all that he was leering at me. Here he was, a man of obvious respect and standing, occupying a position of power and authority going all silly around me.

I started telling Jarrod about Paul at night when I got home. The truth was that I thought Paul was one of the wittiest, most talented, yet most quirky and eccentric people I’d ever met. He was so funny. Clearly, I must have gone on a bit too much because Jarrod started getting jealous.

Honestly, I couldn’t believe it! But then I shouldn’t have been surprised because Jarrod was always jealous of any other male who so much as looked in my direction. If I went out with my girlfriends and he wasn’t invited he’d get all putout, thinking that other guys would try to hit on me.

Well they did! Obviously. They tried to crack onto any girls out on their own. But I wasn’t interested in other guys. In my mind I was with Jarrod and that was that. But that didn’t stop him.

On Saturday mornings, when I played netball, if the boyfriends of my teammates happened to be there, he’d complain to me that they were all perving on me. It was ridiculous. It never seemed to occur to him that although I was attractive enough there were other girls in my team who were far sexier than me. At least I thought so. I guess I should’ve been flattered that he thought they were all looking at me.

Whatever. It was annoying and now he was jealous of an overweight, middle-aged lawyer.

So, I stopped talking to Jarrod about Paul.

One morning, I made the mistake of wearing a pair of white slacks to work. Yeah, they were pretty tight and I kinda knew they didn’t leave much to the imagination, but I liked them and I didn’t really think much of it.

When I walked into the office at 8:43, Paul’s eyes nearly popped out of his head. All day he was even more nervous around me than normal. Finally, around mid-afternoon, as I brought some paperwork into his office he said to me, “I really like those slacks on you. They really suit you. You should wear them more often.”

“Thank you,” I said, cheekily, half turning in a mock fashion runway demonstration, but really just so he could catch a quick glimpse of my bottom. I honestly don’t know why I did that.

“You’re welcome,” he said, and then, after a long pause, “And I really like those pink panties.”

I instantly blushed. I’d forgotten that I’d worn knickers. They were clearly visible through the thin white material. Normally I’d only wear those white pants when I went out with my girlfriends and I’d wear a g-string underneath.

“Oh, my God!” I said, genuinely embarrassed, “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to wear these.”

“No, no!” Paul said hurriedly, putting his open palms out in a desperate attempt to calm a situation he obviously thought could result in a harassment claim. “No, I, I just mean it looks nice. I didn’t mean anything by it.”

We both laughed and I assured him that I wasn’t offended by his comments.

Over the next few days, Paul was a lot more careful around me in the office and I returned to wearing dark slacks or long skirts. It was obvious to me that he deeply regretted remarking on my panties. Not that it had bothered me at all. It was just a harmless observation. But clearly Paul thought that it was unprofessional and potentially very damning to his business.

But then, about two weeks later as I was packing up my desk to go home he came up to me and said in a slightly nervous voice, “Um, I wonder if you’d mind wearing those white slacks tomorrow.”

I just looked blankly at him, unsure of what to say. Paul looked back at me, clearly feeling uncomfortable. Before I could say anything he went on, “It’s...it’s just that I have a potential new client coming in tomorrow. He’s worth a lot of money. I really want this guy. There’s a few of the bigger firms sniffing around him. I can’t match the size of their teams, obviously, but I reckon you could be my secret weapon.” He looked deeply into my eyes and I knew exactly what he wanted.

I smiled. And I tingled at the possibility. “You’re the boss,” I said cheekily, “whatever you say.”

Paul looked utterly relieved and said, “Thank you so much.”

The tram ride into work the next day was so exciting. I couldn’t wait to get into the office and put on a show for whoever it was that Paul was trying to lure. It was obvious that getting this guy was very important to Paul and I genuinely felt that if it was important to my boss then it should be important to me.

So, I put on one hell of a show.

I’d also worn a low cut top that really showed off my cleavage. As soon as Paul saw me, I realized I’d done well.

“Good morning Chloe,” he said, wide-eyed. “May I just say that you look beautiful.” It was said without any hint of sleaziness or innuendo. Just a genuine compliment.

“Thank you,” I said, and immediately felt my knickers getting all wet.

Jesus! I thought to myself, and I’m wearing white!

I hurriedly sat down at my desk and when Paul wasn’t looking I quickly checked down there. It was ok, nothing was showing. But I just felt so horny. I hadn’t felt this way in so long and I couldn’t explain it.

Control yourself! I thought to myself. I tried to focus on my work.

Mr. Pritchard, the much sought-after client arrived at 10 am. By the time I stood up to greet him as he came through the door, I had managed to calm down somewhat and presented as very courteous and professional.

He was older than Paul and obviously took care of himself. Well dressed with a full head of slightly greying hair he sort of reminded me a bit of Richard Gere in ‘Pretty Woman’.

He paid me nothing more than perfunctory attention and walked straight over to Paul who had emerged from his office to shake his hand.

“Coffee or tea, John?” Paul asked him.

“No thanks, Paul," he replied and they disappeared back into the office, closing the door behind them.

It wasn’t long before Paul again appeared at his office door and asked me to find some case file or something from the cabinet and bring it into his office. I immediately recognised a slight look of agitation and stress on his face. I gathered that Mr. Pritchard was playing hardball.

I knocked and then walked into the office with the particular file that had been requested. Immediately I could smell the very expensive aftershave on Mr. Pritchard that I hadn’t noticed before. I walked as close to him as I could without actually brushing against him and rather provocatively leaned over the desk to hand the file to Paul. I thought I noticed Mr. Pritchard looking at my backside. I couldn’t be sure but I hoped so.

Soon, I was summoned again to bring another file. This time I was certain he was staring at me. I felt myself getting extremely wet again.

The third time I was called in, Mr. Pritchard actually spoke to me. “So how long have you been working here, Chloe?” he asked. He knows my name! I thought to myself.

“Not long,” I replied, “only a few weeks.” And on it went for a few minutes. “Are you studying? Do you have a boyfriend? You’re very pretty.” Etcetera.

I loved it! I was so wet! I giggled at his jokes. I flirted with him; I half sat provocatively on Paul's desk as he addressed me. I placed my hand on his shoulder when talking to him, I batted my eyelids... I really put on a show! Then as I left the office I made sure that I did the whole rolling of the hips thing as I walked out, looking into his eyes and smiling as I closed the door behind me.

About fifteen minutes later the office door opened and the two men came out laughing and shaking hands. This time Mr. Pritchard gave me a good deal of attention. He took my hand and looked straight into my eyes. “I’m certainly looking forward to seeing a lot more of you, Chloe,” he said. I merely smiled and giggled and blushed. “You take care of this one, Paul,” he said, not taking his eyes from mine. “She’s a very good catch!”

“Oh, I intend to,” Paul replied.

Then Mr. Pritchard was out the door and gone. Paul just looked at me, exhaled deeply and said, “Well done, Chloe.”

I found myself really enjoying my job with Paul. Jarrod just seemed to hate it though. I couldn’t understand it. If I mentioned Paul or my job he’d roll his eyes and say something like, “I don’t care about that fuckin’ sleaze!” But then if I didn’t mention work for a while he’d ask what I was being so secretive about.

One day, not long after we’d secured Mr. Pritchard’s business, I decided to wear my sexy white slacks to work again. Truth was I only wore them because I knew Paul liked looking at me in them. Unfortunately, I’d forgotten that Jarrod’s roster had changed. Every second week he was on the afternoon shift. Therefore, he was home when I left for work. When he saw me in my tight, virtually see-through pants and little white cotton tails clearly on display, he went berserk!

“Why are you showing yourself off to that dirty old cunt?” he ranted.

“Sorry! Sorry! Jesus!” I said to him, trying to calm him down. “I was just in a rush. I’ll go and change. They’re just the first things I found.”

That seemed to calm him down for the moment.

From then on, every time Jarrod was on afternoon shift and I decided to wear those pants or any of the other revealing slacks or ridiculously short skirts that I had (which was often) I’d put on something more modest for Jarrod’s benefit and take the revealing outfits in my bag, changing at the train station or in the toilets downstairs from where I worked.

Paul never asked me to. And he never commented on anything I wore again after that one time. But I knew he loved it.

One afternoon, Paul approached me again as I was packing up to go home. “There’s a Law Institute Conference coming up in a couple of months. It’s being held in Albury this year. I was thinking you could come too.” He had that slightly embarrassed look that I’d come to know so well. It was obvious that he really wanted me to go.

“Gee,” I said, “I’d love to, but I’m not sure I can afford it.”

“No, it’s a work function so you’d be going as my secretary. I’ll cover all expenses.”

I wasn’t about to say no to that.

The problem was going to be how to tell Jarrod. He’d flip when I told him.

Funnily enough he didn’t react as badly as I thought he would. He just laughed. Not a happy, inclusive laugh, but a mocking, derisive laugh.

“You are kidding me, aren’t you!” he asked rhetorically. “He’s invited you away for a dirty weekend! I guess you can’t blame him for trying,” he said, scoffing derisively again.

“It’s not a dirty weekend,” I said soothingly. “It’s a work conference.”

“And you’ll be sharing a room, no doubt,” Jarrod asked, trying to hide his anger and obvious hurt and confusion.

“Don’t be ridiculous!” I said, still trying to sound reassuring. “As if I’m going to allow him to do that!” Jarrod shot me a look. “He’s not interested in me like that!” I instantly came back with.

To his credit, Jarrod never really tried to stop me going. But it was obvious that he was not at all happy about the arrangement. I did my best to put his mind at ease and assure him that even if Paul did try something - which I promised Jarrod he wouldn’t - that I would immediately put a stop to it!

Nonetheless it was a decidedly grumpy boyfriend that I farewelled on the Friday morning before the weekend away with Paul. But I assured Jarrod we’d go out and have dinner together on Sunday night when I got back.

When I got to work, Paul was clearly very excited about the weekend. No work was done that day and we left before lunch. Immediately I got the impression that this weekend had pretty much nothing to do with work and had everything to do with having a good time.

Paul spoke excitedly in the car about catching up with old mates and how much they’d enjoy meeting me and I would enjoy meeting them.

We stopped for lunch in a country pub somewhere along the way and Paul encouraged me to have a glass of wine. So I did.

I’d never seen Paul so relaxed. And I liked it. The way he spoke about introducing me around it was as though he almost saw us as a couple. He seemed very excited about showing me off and it was quite obvious that he was very proud of me.

Again, I have to say that it didn’t bother me at all. I was being paid to be there and he was paying for everything so I would do as I was told.

We arrived in Albury around 4:30 in the afternoon. We drove straight to our motel. Now, I hadn’t specifically asked if I would have my own room, nor did I request it. But naturally, I had assumed that I would. So when Paul returned to the car from the motel reception with only one key, I was a little surprised. Then, when we pulled up to the room and went inside I started to understand what this was really all about.

There was only one bed. A queen-sized bed. I gave Paul a bemused look. Frankly, he looked like an idiot. He flushed and mumbled something about the motel making a mistake with the booking and now they didn’t have any more rooms and he would complain etc. etc.

“Paul. Paul! It’s ok,” I said, interrupting his clumsy attempt at dishonesty. “I’ve shared a bed with a male friend before. And the bed’s big enough so we won’t have to touch. It’s ok.”

Somehow he seemed more attractive than previously. He wanted me. Obviously. So I decided I would probably let him have me. I couldn’t help thinking how Jarrod had seen this coming all along. But honestly, I had not. But he was too far away to do anything so I decided he didn’t really matter.

That night we went out for dinner with a bunch of Paul’s friends and colleagues. He introduced me to all of them as his secretary and every single one of them smiled knowingly at him. There were a few comments along the lines of, “Well done” and other forms of congratulations. Even from some of the women.

As it was going to be a big weekend, everybody left fairly early. We got back to our room and Paul asked if I wanted a nightcap. I told him I wanted to take shower first. Maybe it was my imagination but I thought I saw his eyes momentarily light up.

I locked the bathroom door as I went in. I wasn’t afraid of Paul or concerned that’d he’d come in. I knew he wouldn’t. I guess I just wanted to send a message that I wasn’t inviting him in. I was at least pretending that we were just sharing a room.

I undressed in the bathroom and had a long shower, wondering how I was going to approach the rest of the night. My suitcase was in the main part of the motel room so after I finished my shower I wrapped the towel around myself and went out to get my pyjamas from my case.

As I walked out, I looked over to where Paul was sitting up in bed. The TV was on but the sound was low. He was still wearing his shirt but I could see his trousers slung over a chair.

“How was your shower?” he asked me.

“Terrific.”

I went to my case and started looking through my things. I had deliberately wrapped the towel very high up so my bottom was nearly exposed. I guess I wanted to see his reaction. I leaned forward and could feel the cool air between my upper thighs. I was certain that Paul could almost see my young pussy.

“Chloe,” I heard Paul say in a low voice, “turn around.” I did as he asked. I stood there being appraised by my boss. He said nothing. I could see he was breathing a little harder than normal.

“My God, you’re beautiful,” he finally said.

“Thank you, Mr. Granger,” I said, almost mockingly. I was enjoying this role play. Paul ignored it. He seemed transfixed.

“What I’d give to see that towel fall to the floor,” he said, his eyes darting around my semi-naked form. He seemed to be trying to take in as much as possible in that moment.

My pussy tingled. I felt butterflies in the pit of my tummy. He was my boss. I was duty-bound to do as he asked. I reached up and undid the towel and allowed it to fall to the floor.

I stood, naked and vulnerable in this rather dated hotel room, feeling the cheap, coarse carpet under my feet, whilst Paul just gaped at me. All at once he seemed much older than he had previously. Not in a bad way. I guess the gap in our ages and social standing suddenly became more obvious or pronounced. Or something.

But I was his to do what he pleased with. I had nowhere to hide. And I loved it.

I saw his hand reach under the sheets and he took hold of his cock. “You’re as beautiful as I imagined,” he said, softly. “Come here.” I walked over to the bed and he reached out his other hand and stroked my neatly trimmed pussy. It was surreal. I couldn’t believe that I was allowing this guy to stroke my naked pubic hair. But he was gentle and it felt nice.

“Pull back the sheets,” I said quietly. He did, and his large, throbbing cock sprang into view.

I’d seen a few cocks in my time, but none looked as utterly tempting as Paul’s hard, hairy cock. I wanted it in a way that I’d never felt with anyone before, not even Jarrod. I silently dropped to my knees, wrapped my fingers around it, opened my lips and took his erect penis in my mouth, gently sucking and licking and caressing it.

“Ooohhh, faarrrk...” Paul moaned. I wondered if he’d ever felt such pleasure in his life, the way he reacted. His cock was beautiful. I wanted to taste his load, but I also wanted him deep inside me.

After a couple of minutes, I playfully admonished him with, “Don’t you cum! Not yet!” I stood up and knelt on the bed straddling him. Almost instinctively, his hand reached out and he ran a finger along my sopping cunt. It tingled so beautifully. He then gently inserted a finger. I squealed slightly and grabbed his hand to push it deeper into my cunt. I just loved the idea of Paul being actually in me, fingering my wet hole. I rode his finger for a few moments, staring straight into his eyes. He then parted my pussy lips, directed his hard shaft towards my snatch and I sank down upon it.

Instantly, I was overcome by a flood of feelings, both physical and emotional. I couldn’t help but gasp. It was a connection I’d never known before. Perhaps he hadn’t either. Our eyes locked and it was as though all those months of smoldering sexual tension had lead to this moment.

“Chloe! Oh, fuck! Chloe!” he kept groaning over and over as his shaft pushed deep into me. And I mean really deep.

“You like this, Mr. Granger?” I breathlessly asked. Calling him Mr. Granger turned me on even more. He was still wearing his shirt which only reinforced in my mind the fact that he was my boss.

“Oh Chloe, Chloe...” he kept moaning over and over, his hands massaging my breasts.

It was by far the most tantalising and pleasurable experience of my life to that moment. Nobody had ever been so totally enraptured by me before. I’d never before felt so utterly desired.

“Don’t cum,” I warned him again breathlessly, “I want your tasty cum in my mouth!” Clearly that was too much for Paul.

“Ohhhhh, fuck!” he growled as his thrusting cock suddenly erupted inside me, pumping me full of his hot jizz.

“Oh, Mr. Granger,” I purred, his cock continuing to pulse deep within me. “That’s amazing.”

“I’m sorry, Chloe,” he started repeating over and over. “I couldn’t help it. You’re so fucking sexy.”

“It’s ok,” I smiled. “I’m not done with you yet. And next time, I want to swallow your cum. Every drop.”

Paul pulled me to his mouth and kissed me. “Next time,” he said, looking at me intensely,” I want your tasty ass.”

“It’s yours!” I whispered to him, “You can do me any way you want!”

The look on Pauls face was one of pure contentment. I lay on his chest and listened to his heart beating. He was soon blissfully snoring away quietly.

The next morning Paul was awake before me and up making coffee. He was positively beaming. There was no time for much else except a quick shower and then off to the conference.

The day for me was frankly quite boring. It soon became apparent that I was there for no other reason than because Paul had hoped to fuck me. Fair enough too, I thought.

Dinner again followed. More introductions to Paul’s boozy mates, more lecherous stares from middle-aged blokes, more condescending comments from Paul’s female peers.

I didn’t care. I enjoyed being Paul’s companion. I enjoyed helping to build his reputation.

I was, however, a little confused by my own attitude to all of this.

My parents had me rather late in their life and my mother in particular was one of the great woman’s liberationists of her time.

She told me about the first time she read Germaine Greer’s, The Female Eunuch, and how much it had meant to her. I’d never read the book but I totally agreed with her views that women were not simply placed on this earth to be the chattels of men. And yet here I was, allowing myself to be used by a man simply because he was my boss.

Again, I’m not sure why I felt this way, but Paul was my boss. He paid my wages. I felt I should be grateful to him for providing me with a job. And my job to do what he needed me to do to help him succeed. Not to waste his time with petty arguing.

Anyway, it was a fun evening but I could tell that Paul was more interested in fucking me than he was in boozing with his mates. So it was only around 10 o’clock when we got back to the room. I was lead willingly like a lamb to the slaughter.

As soon as we got inside, he said to me, “Do you remember what you said to me last night?”

“Do you remember what you said to me?” I retorted, teasingly.

He looked at me hungrily, with animal lust in his eyes. “I want your fucking little asshole,” he said.

“Then you’d better have it,” I demurred.

Before long, I was completely naked and on all fours on the bed, my face on the pillow. Paul knelt on the bed behind me, fixated, almost salivating. He was still fully clothed.

“You’ll need to give my bottom plenty of lubrication so it won’t hurt,” I cooed to him.

Paul put his mouth to my asshole and started gently licking. He did so slowly, savouring every second. Tasting my bottom and lovingly rubbing my cunt. It was so beautiful.

“Put your tongue deep inside my arse!” I demanded between sighs. “Lick my arse!”

I was so relaxed, Paul’s tongue was able to explore my anus deeply and passionately. It felt so fantastic. I desperately wanted Paul’s cock in my arse. But I loved his tongue tasting me as well.

Finally, he stopped. “Are you lubricated enough now?” he asked mockingly.

“Almost”, I said, reaching across to my handbag on the bedside table and pulling out a tube of lubricant. “Here, use this.”

“You cheeky little thing,” Paul said, laughing. “You mean you had me licking your arse all this time for nothing! We could’ve used the lubricant?”

“What’s wrong with that?” I asked, feigning naivety, “I just wanted to feel your tongue on my bottom.”

Paul laughed and went back down and kissed my little puckered hole. Gently, lovingly, with open lips.

Then he smeared lubricant onto his cock and in my soft, compliant arsehole and gently pushed his large, broad penis inside me.

Oh, my fucking God!

This was even more pleasurable than the night before. My head felt like it was going to explode with the endorphins or whatever it was pulsating through my brain.

I wanted to scream, I wanted to cry, I wanted to tell Paul that I loved him (I didn’t. It was just so fucking amazing!) I just wanted to surrender to Paul and the unyielding ecstasy he was delivering me.

Paul was gentle. He was forceful. He was commanding. He was fucking my arsehole but obviously making love to me at the same time. His cock was huge and hard inside me. I never wanted this to end.

At several stages I felt like I was about to pass out, such was the pleasure I was feeling. In fact, I think I probably did.

It was during one of those moments of delirium that my phone started vibrating on the bedside table. I couldn’t believe it, it was Jarrod! Again, it only added to my sense of arousal. Jarrod, who had so feared this very eventuation, was ringing me whilst his worst-case scenario was being played out.

“Leave it,” Paul panted as he struggled to stop himself from cumming copiously up my anus.

“No!” I argued, “Fuck him. I want to talk to him.”

I picked up the phone and pressed the answer button. I motioned shh to Paul.

“Hello?” I offered, breathlessly, eyes squeezed shut with resounding pleasure.

“Hi,” came Jarrod’s greeting. “How’s it all going?” He sounded a little subdued.

I pressed my face into the pillow to hide my panting of ecstasy. All I could feel was Pauls cock sliding deeply into my arse and then retracting, pausing, and then pushing in again. I honestly wanted to scream! It was absolutely unbelievable. I again put the phone to my ear. “Oh, It’s ok. A bit boring really.”

I was aware of Pauls cock growing even larger inside me. Clearly, he loved the prospect of fucking his little secretary whilst she spoke to her blithely unaware boyfriend on the phone.

“What’s old fuck face up to?” Jarrod asked, somewhat tersely.

“Oh, I dunno. Off boozing with his mates, I guess,” I offered with some difficulty.

“Are you ok?” Jarrod asked. “You sound a bit strange.”

“Yeah, nah,” I said, trying desperately to sound normal, “I’m ok. I’m just a bit tired.” I looked around at Paul and smiled. He looked back at me with something akin to worship. Still he rhythmically fucked my virgin arsehole.

Remaining on my knees, I lifted my body up until my back was against Paul's chest, the back of my head on his shoulder. He put his arm around me and we both moved together, as one, with me impaled on his cock, enjoying the insane pleasure we were both receiving from the experience. The phone was still to my ear.

“Has the old cunt hit on you yet?” Jarrod asked.

I turned and passionately tongue kissed Paul, my left arm behind his head. He hungrily kissed me back.

“You still there?” asked Jarrod, sounding annoyed.

I broke the kiss and smiled dreamily at Paul.

“Yes, I’m still here,” I said into the phone, using my breathlessness to feign annoyance of my own. “No! He hasn’t hit on me. Promise!”

I couldn’t really listen to what Jarrod said after that but it seemed to be something along the lines of him missing me and couldn’t wait for me to get back home or something.

“I miss you too, honey,” I said softly, biting my lip to try to stop the sounds of moaning and sighing that desperately wanted to come from my mouth.

Paul was now kissing my neck, whilst this change of position meant his hard rod was now pushing even further and deeper into my arse, stimulating parts of me inside that I previously never knew existed. We were in perfect syncopation, each thrusting roll of our bodies extracting maximum pleasure from each other. Pauls left hand was gently massaging my tits and squeezing my nipples, his right hand stimulating my clit, whilst I just said, “Aha, yeah, ok…” to whatever Jarrod was going on about.

Finally, I told him that I loved him too and ended the phone call as quickly as I could without sounding too guilty.

I let the phone drop to the floor and immediately exploded with the most intense orgasm I’d ever experienced. Once again, face buried deep into the pillow I screamed a muffled scream for what seemed like a full minute as wave after wave of overwhelming pleasure swept through me, and then, just when I thought it couldn’t possibly get any better, I felt a jet of hot, sticky spunk shoot deep inside me.

Paul and I lay sleepily in each other’s arms. I felt so content ‘cos every time I moved I could feel his hot jism still inside me. He was embarrassed because as he came in my arsehole he had repeatedly yelled that he loved me. I told him over and over that it was ok. I knew that it was just said in the heat of the moment. Still, he went on about it.

The next day was much the same as the previous. Long boring seminars and talks and then drinks afterwards. It was all to be capped off with a big dinner and more drinks to finish off the weekend.

It was after dinner that Paul and I found ourselves at a bar somewhere drinking with an old friend of his from uni called Keith. Sitting around the bar table on stools, the two middle-aged drunks were in hysterics recounting stories from their illustrious uni days and various early cases in their careers. Clearly, they were very good friends and their stories were somewhat amusing and entertaining. And I enjoyed seeing Paul so relaxed and happy. And Keith was trying his best to impress me with his wit and storytelling ability.

Many, many stories began with, “Ah, Chloe, I must tell you about the time that your boss here and I were asked to defend this bloke…” and on it would go; with the two of them nearly falling off their stools with laughter, guffawing to such an extent that I often couldn’t actually understand the punchline.

It was also quite evident that Keith had attained far greater heights in his career than Paul had. But neither man seemed to consider this at all relevant. They were just bloody good mates!

Finally, it was closing time. Paul and Keith were quite drunk. I was too.

“So, what are you up to now, you old prick?” Paul asked his old mate. “Aw, I dunno,” said Keith, struggling a little to stand up.

“Come back to our place,” Paul slurred. Then, placing an arm affectionately around my shoulder, “We’ll share this little thing!”

I froze. Keith looked at me, then to Paul and then back to me. I looked at Paul. He didn’t budge. He just kept looking at Keith. “C’mon mate, she’s fuckin’ good value.”

Keith looked at me again. I relaxed. Ok, I thought, this wasn’t part of the deal. But it’s what Paul wants… I just looked at him and smiled warmly, wondering what sort of lover he might be.

“C’mon!” Paul insisted. “Don’t be a weak cuuunt!” he said, drawling out the expletive like a stupid schoolboy. Keith just shrugged in agreement.

By the time the taxi pulled up at our motel room, both Paul and Keith were struggling to keep their hands off me. But still, it was respectful, if that makes sense. At no stage did I feel threatened or violated. Just desired. Deeply, wantingly desired.

We burst through the door and immediately it was a race between the two men to get to the toilet to relieve their straining bladders. In the end Paul won, leaving Keith, undeterred, to piss in the sink.

The two men then retired to the bed whilst I was instructed to slowly strip in front of them. Keith clearly enjoyed the show. His bleary eyes seemed to struggle to focus on me, so he kept blinking, I guess trying to not miss a moment.

Paul's face was different. He was gloating with pride and satisfaction at his friend’s approval.

First, I peeled off my smart, casual jacket. Then my white, low buttoned shirt. Next, my tight, short skirt was allowed to fall to the floor. I stood there in my underwear; Paul and Keith just staring.

Paul instructed me to remove my bra next, and the two of them made complimentary remarks about the firmness of my young breasts. Then I was made to turn around as I removed my panties, bending right over as I slowly pushed them all the way to my ankles.

“Didn’t I tell you she had the sexiest arse you’d ever seen?” Paul said to his mate. Keith just nodded.

“What do you want to do first?” Paul asked.

Not taking his eyes off me, almost in a trance-like state, Keith replied with, “I want her sexy little pink pussy.”

Paul stood up and beckoned me over. Keith also stood up and moved to the foot of the bed. As I lay down on my back, he eased my legs apart to fully appreciate me. Then, after a moment of lustful appraisal, he moved in to taste my almost dripping nectar.

“Oh, my God!” I involuntarily offered. It truly was heavenly. He was good! I reached down and clutched Keith behind his neck and pushed his face deeper into my wet cunt. “Fucking lick me!” I snarled, pushing my sopping crutch into his mouth.

Paul, meanwhile, had moved around and stood next to my head with his semi-erect cock in his hand. I knew what was expected and obediently shuffled over and took it in my mouth.

It tasted even better than it had on the first night. Having only just finished a piss, there were still remnants of pee on his cock. It added a delicious, salty flavour to his beautiful manhood. I went from merely sucking his cock obligingly to hungrily searching with my tongue for more of that salty deliciousness.

Before long, Keith had unleashed his mighty cock and slid it into me. I sighed and moaned as I was supposed to. And, don’t get me wrong, it felt exquisite. But I was being the dutiful employee that Paul paid me to be.

It was then that I noticed that the heavy motel curtains had been left partially open, with only the thin lace curtains stopping me from seeing out into the darkness. Was that deliberate? Could people see us from outside? Were they watching us? A shiver ran through me at the thought of it. I fucking hoped so!

Paul and Keith only spoke to each other once during the whole experience. Paul, flushed in the face and perspiring asked his friend, “What do you think? Didn’t I tell ya?”

“Oh mate,” Keith panted, “she’s fucking awesome! Can I borrow her from time to time?”

“’Course ya can mate. Anytime.” Paul replied.

I lay there, the tatty nylon bedspread scratching my soft skin, being fucked by a total stranger and sucking my boss’s salty cock and listening as they passed me around like a little sex toy. I can’t say it was unpleasant work. And I didn’t mind one bit. I just moaned and sighed louder, pushed my cunt onto Keith’s cock further and sucked on Paul's cock harder.

It wasn’t long before Paul announced loudly, “Oh, Chloe! Chloe! Oh, fuck! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!”

“I want you in my mouth!’ I hissed. “I want to swallow your hot cum!”. I opened my mouth and received the full, hot load.

Just as I was savouring the beautiful, salty taste of Paul's ejaculate, preparing to swallow, I felt Keith pull out from inside me. He appeared as though he was going to shoot all over my tummy.

“No!” I scolded. I leapt from my position on the bed and, still with the full load of Paul's cum in my mouth, took Keith’s cock and wrapped my lips around it. I grabbed his butt cheeks as his balls started pumping. “You fuckin’ sexy little slut!” he snarled and in the next instant, his hot jet was hitting the back of my throat.

I just couldn’t believe what a lucky girl I was, swallowing two loads of gorgeous, delicious semen from two successful, important men in one gulp.

The two men collapsed on the bed either side of me, seemingly spent. It didn’t seem to bother either of them that I hadn’t reached a climax. I didn’t mind.

After a few minutes, they seemed to recover a bit and began to talk to each other. I lay naked on my side between them, purring with genuine delight as they both gently caressed me, frequently causing little goosebumps on my skin from their sensitive touch.

Keith lovingly and very gently stroked my body and Paul stroked my hair and continually whispered to me, in between conversations with Keith, how beautiful he thought I was.

On several occasions, Keith’s fingers wandered down into my sopping wet pussy or bottom and he would finger me for a while. The only thought that crossed my mind on one occasion, as his middle finger probed deep into my arsehole was that he probably should trim his fingernails.

I was half asleep when I heard Keith announce that he was leaving. I rolled over and looked up at him sleepily. He was standing fully dressed beside the bed. He gazed down at my naked, nubile body for a moment smiling and shaking his head. “It was nice meeting you,” I said to him softly. He knelt on the bed and gave me an affectionate kiss.

“It was my pleasure meeting you, young Chloe,” he replied in a low voice.

He and Paul went outside to say their goodbyes and I fell asleep.

The next morning seemed a bit awkward between Paul and me. I sensed he had something to ask me. Maybe he was curious as to whether I thought he and I had a future together as more than employer and employee. But when we got to Melbourne I asked him to drop me off at home and told him I’d see him the next day. I was polite and professional and didn’t try to kiss him goodbye or anything. He looked a little disappointed.

Jarrod was home when I arrived.

“How was it?” he asked, pretending to not care.

“Boring,” I said as I headed down the hallway to our bedroom. “I need to sleep.” I closed the bedroom door behind me and grabbed the tight little white slacks from the wardrobe and put them in my bag for the next day.