8 comments/ 119217 views/ 28 favorites Office Trip By: kjane It was one of those lousy Mondays at work: the phones were constantly ringing, everyone was stressed out, and it seemed as though the day was never going to end. Early that afternoon, my boss Ted called me into his office. When I arrived, my coworkers Mark and Stan were there as well. "Thanks for coming in everyone," said Ted. "As you know, we are losing clients to our competitors, although it may not feel like it, due to our department being short-staffed and overworked. I know that everyone is working very hard. Although I recognize that the timing is not ideal, I'd like to send all of you to a two-day conference in New Orleans to gain a little more insight into the current trends of the financial industry. I think it is necessary in order to keep up." New Orleans, I thought. That might be a nice trip, although the timing is pretty bad. "When is the conference?" I asked. "This Thursday and Friday," replied Ted. "Uh, I'm not sure if this is a good idea, Ted," said Mark. "We already have a couple of people out on vacation, and who is going to be around to cover our duties while we're gone?" "Don't worry about that. I'll cover any immediate emergencies, and since it is only two days, we can survive around here with a skeleton crew. The three of you will be back at your desks on Monday," said Ted. "And we will expect all of you to give us a brief presentation about what was discussed at the conference upon your return." "Does the company have the itinerary and lodging arrangements set up?" asked Stan. "Yes. Contact Tina in human resources to get the details on the flight, lodging, and the time of the conference. You will be leaving Wednesday night and returning Saturday morning. The company will pay for everything. Because of company policy, Stan, we are going to have you and Mark stay together in a room, and Jane will have her own room. Other than that, you will all be carpooling in the same rental car, dining together, and putting all expenses on the company credit card. Just make sure to bring back the receipts for accounting," said Ted. "Sounds good," I said. "Okay," said Ted. "And make sure to do a little sight-seeing too. I hear that New Orleans is a lovely town." "Will do," replied Stan. With that, the three of us left Ted's office and returned to our desks. There was a lot to get done before leaving on Wednesday night. I was pleased that I was going to have my own room on the trip. Company policy stipulates that employees of the same sex are required to lodge together, if possible. Employees of the opposite sex are not allowed to share rooms. Since I was the only female on the trip, this meant that I was going to have a lovely time resting by myself in the evenings, without having to be bothered by anyone. This was most welcome, as I have had to deal with far too many business trips where I had to lodge with snoring or annoying female coworkers. Wednesday of that week was a whirlwind. Our flight was to leave Los Angeles at 7:00 PM, so we had to be at the airport by 5:00 PM to check in our bags, go through the security check, and deal with any other hassles that may have arisen. Stan, Mark and I also worked a full day at the office that day, so we were going to be very tired when we arrived in New Orleans later that night. The conference the next day was going to start at 9:00 AM. The flight wasn't too bad. Normally I hate flying, but I think the level of exhaustion I was experiencing eased my nerves a little. And I didn't mind being around Stan and Mark. We had worked together for a long time and knew one another well. They were both married, professional people. They would both flirt with me occasionally, but it was all harmless fun, and never led to anything improper. I felt comfortable being around them, and looked forward to spending time with them over the next couple of days. It would be fine. When we arrived in New Orleans, and partly due to the time change, it was after midnight. The weather was warm and humid. We got our bags and went to the terminal where our rental car was waiting. The hotel at which we were staying was close to the airport, so there was not going to be a problem finding it. We were beat. I looked at my watch and realized that we were not going to be able to get a full night's sleep before the conference the next morning. The next day was going to be rough. When we arrived at the hotel, the three of us went up to the front desk to sign in and get our room keys. "You three are here for the financial conference, right?" said the desk clerk. "Yeah," I replied. "We should have two rooms reserved." The guy at the desk looked at his computer with a puzzled look on his face. He then flipped through a couple of his logbooks. "It says here that your company just reserved one room." "That can't be right," I said. "We should have two rooms." "I'm sorry," he said, "but we have nothing that indicates that your company reserved two rooms." "Well, do you have another room available?" I asked. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we do not have any more rooms available at this time." I was getting very upset. Tina, our company travel director, must have fucked something up. Now where the fuck was I going to stay? Happily, Stan stepped in and tried to help, because I was getting so pissed off that I was about to strangle the desk clerk, although none of this was probably his fault. "Are there any other hotels close by that have a room available? It is important that our party has two rooms," said Stan. The clerk shifted uncomfortably. "I'm sorry, but I've already looked into this matter for other customers today, and this area of town is entirely booked for the next few days, due to the conference tomorrow. The room you have reserved has two beds, but we can make arrangements to get another single bed in there. That is all we can do at this time. I'm so sorry." I shrugged my shoulders and looked at Mark and Stan. "Would you guys mind letting me share your room? Otherwise I'll be sleeping in the car," I said, laughing ironically. "That's fine with me," said Stan. "Me too," added Mark. "I think the company will understand that the three of us rooming together was necessary due to the error." "Okay then, it will be like being at summer camp," I said. "I'm beat. Let's just hit the hay. We have a big day tomorrow." It took a few minutes for them to prepare our room, but when we got up there, the scene wasn't too bad. The room was quite large, and could accommodate the three beds easily. Now things were going to get a little awkward. How were we going to handle undressing in front of each other? I wasn't about to sleep in my clothes for two days, and I had not brought a bathrobe, because I thought I would be rooming alone. I never wore pajamas. We were all grown-ups, so I figured we could be around one another in a certain level of undress without feeling creepy about it, even though we were coworkers. I thought I'd broach the subject first, just to make sure. "Ok, married guys, are you going to be okay with seeing me partially naked? This whole thing is a little fucked up, as you both know, so we are going to have to co-habitate responsibly," I said. Mark laughed. "Just don't tell my wife that the company screwed up our lodging arrangements and everything will be fine." "Same here," said Stan. "My wife would shit if she knew I was rooming with another woman on a business trip." "And I hate to break it to you guys," I added, "but I don't have anything you haven't seen on your wives, so things should be fine." However, I knew that I probably did have assets their wives didn't have, as I had seen pictures of them in their cubes at work. Both wives were moderately attractive, but somewhat overweight and ordinary. In contrast, my frame is firm and tight, although I do have a little more weight on my ass and hips than I would prefer. For being in my late thirties, my B-cup boobs are firm. I am quite proud of that, actually. "No problem, Jane," said Stan. "I gotta warn you up front that I might have my junk hanging out occasionally, too. But I don't think it is anything that you haven't seen on your boyfriend--I just hope I'm bigger," he giggled. "It is a guy thing." "As a single girl, I've seen more penis than I'll ever admit to you guys," I laughed. Our discourse took some of the awkwardness out of the air. We were friends and professionals. We were going to get through our lodging dilemma being okay. "Well, I don't know about you guys," I added, "but I'm going to bed now." "I think we all should," agreed Stan. We then moved our bags over to the closet, turned out the lights, and started to prepare to go to sleep. The only light in the room came from the streetlights directly outside the window. The light coming in was still enough to see one another with some clarity as we started to undress. It was inevitable that we all peeked at one another while we did so--there was no way around it, although we did so discreetly and without making comments. We were going to be responsible about it. As I unbuttoned my blouse, I watched Mark take off his watch and then unbutton his dress shirt. Stan was unbuttoning his slacks. Once my blouse was off, I reached back and unzipped my skirt, letting it fall to the ground. Then I unfastened my bra. I could see both Mark and Stan marveling at the contours of my breasts in the faint light. At that moment, I wondered whether they had ever thought about my tits when we worked together. Yeah, probably, I decided. They were guys. Every guy fantasizes about nice looking ladies at the office, right? I then slid down my tights, revealing the entirety of my womanhood--my shapely ass and hips, as well as my shaved pussy, which was as bald and smooth as it could be. Neither Stan nor Mark said a word, or tried to ogle at my nakedness, but I knew they must have enjoyed the sight. By that time, Mark and Stan were both in their underwear. Mark wore briefs, whereas Stan wore boxers (interesting!). They got into their beds with their underwear on. Damn, I thought; they just got to see my pussy, albeit from across the room, and I didn't get to see their cocks. Oh well, I guess that was the price to pay for not wearing underwear under my tights that day. That night I lay in bed exhausted, but I still had trouble sleeping. Watching the guys undress was a little bit of a turn-on. My bed was closest to the window, so the light reflecting in was bathing me softly in florescence. It was warm, probably eighty degrees, so I went with few blankets on my frame. I let my breasts be uncovered outside of the blankets, but I kept my midsection covered. The room was quiet as we lay there. I tried to sleep, but I couldn't. After about a half an hour, I could hear Mark, whose bed was the furthest away from me, begin to snore softly. He was out. I couldn't tell whether Stan was sleeping. He was rustling under the sheets occasionally, as though he was having a tough time sleeping too. Out of the corner of my half-closed left eye, I noticed that his eyes were drifting my way, peering at my exposed breasts in the faint light. He shifted in his bed again, pulling back the sheets slightly. His eyes remained focused on me. He thought I was sleeping, but I was completely awake. His hands were under the covers, bobbing. Oh my, I thought, he is masturbating to the sight of my breasts. I continued to be as still and as quiet as possible, and just let him do his thing. It was natural and okay, I decided. I was actually flattered that I looked nice enough to be mastubatory fodder for him. I let him enjoy his moment in his own place, in his own time. Stan continued to work his cock under the covers for a few minutes, until his legs tightened and he let out a few deep, husky breaths that lasted about fifteen seconds. I couldn't see it, but I knew that he blew a load of cum under his sheets. I so wished I could have seen it. He rested for a couple of minutes, before pulling back the sheets. He reached down to the ground and retrieved one of his socks, and then wiped the seed from his sticky, glistening abdomen. I could smell the scent of his cream from my corner of the room. It was intoxicating. I would have jilled myself right there, but I wasn't comfortable with doing that. It would have been improper. Instead, I tried to drift off into sleep. It took awhile, but eventually I got there. * * * The alarm clock blasted like a siren at 6:30 AM. I felt like I had only slept a few minutes. The sun was peeking into the window near my bed. The shower was running. WTF? Amidst complete disorientation, it took a few seconds to register that I was in New Orleans with Mark and Stan. Oh yeah, the conference today. I was so tired from the trip that I could barely move. I also realized that somehow, in the middle of the night, I had shaken my covers and was now face down on top of them. Mark and Stan had already risen and were in the process of getting ready to "shine" for the conference. Stan was in the shower, and Mark was wearing only his briefs, brushing his teeth in front of the mirror. In contrast, I was completely exhausted and nude, face down on the bed, with my legs spread apart, having unknowingly given the guys a prime view of the architecture of my ass and shaved labia majora for who knows how long. If any biological mysteries remained from the previous night, they were gone now. Yeah, this was just like summer camp, but with a twist. "Good morning, Jane!" smiled Mark, happy as a clam, as he stood above me. He then continued to scrub his pearly whites with his toothbrush. I turned over slowly, my mind exhausted. I was now on my back, completely nude, my legs spread slightly apart, looking up at him, with my coworker pussy in full view. "I'd make an attempt to cover myself up, but you two have probably seen everything by now, haven't you?" I said hazily, not even measuring the words that came from my lips. "Everything," replied Mark. "But don't worry about it. We are roommates for the next couple of days!" he said, deriving extra glee by stressing "roommates!" "Super," I said anticlimactically. "Just what I need. Two guys with whom I will have to work for the next several years knowing every nook and cranny of my biology." "Don't worry, Jane. We're buddies," he said. "Can you at least fetch a cup of coffee for me?" I begged. "No problem." Mark walked over and poured me a coffee, thick and black. I sat up on the edge of the bed, making no attempt to cover myself. It didn't matter at this point. I just needed some fucking coffee in my system. Mark handed me the cup, which was a godsend. "Thanks," I uttered sleepily. "So Jane, how do you get such a clean haircut?" inquired Mark. "Huh?" I mumbled, sipping my coffee. "On your privates," he added, pointing to my lower, womanly lips. "I've been trying to get my wife to shave for years, but she won't do it. I'd love to have her be as smooth as baby." "Uh, Mark, you do it with a good razor," I said. "A really good razor." I wanted to drop that topic as soon as possible. Sheesh. I worked with these guys. At that very moment, Stan walked into the room, after completing his shower. He was completely nude. His cock was about five inches flaccid, and bulged at the sides before tapering to its bulbous head. I wasn't going to make a comment, but he was thick. Yeah, he was bigger than my boyfriend, for what it was worth. "Good morning, Jane," said Stan, his manhood dangling openly. "Are you ready for the conference this morning?" "Does it look like I'm ready? I just woke up," I replied, holding my coffee cup with both hands. "But good morning to you." Within twenty minutes or so, I started feeling more comfortable being nude around the guys. I was their coworker, and we weren't supposed to be rooming together, but we had no choice. We had to make the best of it and just get over the fact that we weren't going to have much privacy over the next couple of days. I was actually okay with that. I think they were too. However, my boyfriend would totally shit if he knew that I was rooming with a couple of men, as would the wives of Stan and Mark. Our boss was not going to be happy about it, either, when we submitted our expense report showing only one room, but there is nothing that he can do about it. It was the company's mistake to forget to book us two rooms. Once I had enough coffee in my system, I showered, dressed, and got ready for the conference. The conference that day was long and boring. It featured several speakers from various financial institutions, debating the policies of the Federal Reserve and discussing the future of the housing industry, among other topics. Many of the topics discussed were only tangentially related to our business, which were stocks and retirement plans. The buffet lunch was nice, but the damn speeches lasted until 5:30 in the evening. Having come off of a grueling plane flight, hotel problems, and short sleep, it made for a long day. Yet the night was young, and we needed to see some of the city. None of us had ever been to New Orleans, after all, and we needed to get out a little. "So how about we go get a bite to eat?" suggested Stan. "Sure," I replied. "We've been here for almost twenty hours and I'm not even sure what this place is about." "Sounds good to me too," added Mark. "It is too bad that it is not Mardi Gras season around here. I bet it gets pretty wild." "I would hate to see how debauched you two guys would become, if we were here during Mardi Gras," I replied. The guys laughed. We then got into the rental car and headed to the French Quarter for some fine dining, jazz, and some drinks. When we arrived, the streets were bustling with music and energy. It was a fantastic environment. It met my expectations of the city and then some. We surveyed some of the restaurants, but most of them had huge waiting lists. We were all pretty tired, and needed to eat early, so we kept looking for a place that could serve us promptly. We eventually settled on an establishment that was more like a bar than a restaurant, but that was okay with me. They had food too. That evening we ate tasty Cajun food and washed it down with some stiff martinis. As we dined, we talked about the conference that day, and agreed that it was uniformly boring. We still had to attend the second part of it the next day. Our boss, Ted, was expecting us to take notes and make a short presentation to our department upon our return, so we had to pay attention. We discussed how we were going to organize the presentation, and who would be doing what when it came time. As time wore on, the problem was that Mark and Stan were both getting pretty drunk. I felt like I had to baby-sit them a little. "Hey guys, remember that we have to get up early tomorrow," I warned. "Don't drink too much, or you will be hung-over in the morning." "Ah, don't worry, Jane," slurred Stan. "We'll be good boys." "But I did bring a bottle of scotch with me," said Mark. "It is in the hotel room. We can resume our anti-nutritious activities there when we get back." "Just watch it, guys," I said. "We're here on business, okay?" We continued to drink and dine for the next couple of hours. Being the responsible one in our party, I drove us back to the hotel later that evening. I was the only one who imbibed the alcohol in moderation. Mark and Stan were both half-looped by that point. This became more apparent after we arrived in the parking garage at the hotel, when Stan went over to a corner and started to fiddle with his belt buckle. "What the fuck is he doing?" I asked Mark, pointing over in Stan's direction. "He's taking a leak, Jane," replied Mark matter-of-factly. Office Trip "And you think that's okay?" I asked. "Sure," he replied. "He's a guy. Guys piss anywhere. Didn't you know that?" "Uh, I think I'm seeing a clear difference between the sexes here," I said. "We are literally two minutes from being in our hotel room, which has a restroom, yet he'd rather fucking piss on the wall of the parking garage. Damn, boys are weird." Mark laughed, as Stan finished his business, zipped himself up, and walked back over to us. "Alright campers, are we ready to go up?" said Stan. We nodded and took the elevator up to our room. We were up pretty high, and it was sweltering in the room. It must have been ninety degrees with ninety-percent humidity. We left the windows open while we were gone, which was obviously a mistake. It was extremely hot that day. "Damn, it is fucking hot up here," I said. "Let's see if we can get some air-conditioning going." I shut the window, as Mark went over to the air-conditioning unit and twisted a few knobs. "I don't think this shit is going to work," said Mark, twisting and turning the controls of the unit. "The air coming out of this thing is so faint that it is not going to make a difference. We are probably just better off opening the windows again and waiting for it to cool down." "Shit," I said. "It is bad enough that our reservations got fucked up, but now we have to try to sleep in a sweat box tonight." I could already feel myself sweating under my arms, between my legs, and down the crack of my ass, and we had only been in the room for a few minutes. Yet I was forced to open the window again, to let in some hot, but fresh, air. "I'll get some ice for the scotch," said Mark. "That will keep us cool tonight, I think." "Booze doesn't keep one cool, Mark," I said. "But it will help take our mind off of the heat," interjected Stan. I didn't reply. If these guys wanted to go on a severe bender this evening, I thought, that is fine. Just to keep my sanity around those guys, I decided that I better have a few drinks as well. When Mark got back, he started pouring us drinks. It tasted a little strong at first, but gradually it started going down as smooth as water. Shit, I thought, this stuff was pretty good. I also noticed that I was feeling warmer with each passing second. "I'm sweating like a pig up here, guys," I complained. "I need to shed the outfit a little." I took off my blouse, bra, shoes, and slacks. I was wearing panties on this day, but at that moment it was all I was wearing. My clothes were adorned with patches of soaked-through sweat. They were pretty funky and gross. Maybe it was because Stan and Mark were drunk, but they both had to act like wise guys while I undressed. "Ooh yeah, skin show!" cheered Stan. "Right on," added Mark. "Come on, guys," I pleaded. "Fucking have some dignity; we are on a business trip. You already saw my goods this morning, and it feels hot as hell in here. Keep the catcalls to yourselves." The guys straightened up a little, even though by now they were smashed. They were both sweating profusely, so they started to disrobe as well. I didn't have a problem with this, as I had taken the lead in that regard. "Hey," said Stan, looking in my direction. "Do you mind if I go au naturale?" "I don't care," I replied. "It is a sauna up here. Do what you want." "I think I'll do the same," said Mark. They both stripped completely nude. I had seen Stan's penis earlier in the morning, but this was my first time seeing Mark's. His pubic hair was nicely trimmed, and his cock seemed to be of average size and girth. "Hey Jane," said Mark. "Are you going to lose those panties of yours also?" What the hell. I was still sweating down the crack of my ass due to the heat. I might as well get rid of them. "Sure." I stood up, rolled my panties down my sticky frame, and tossed them on the ground. I figured I'd pack my laundry before we left on Saturday morning. At that moment, my entire body was coated in a thin layer of sweat. I don't think anyone could have prepared me for summertime in New Orleans. Then Stan reached down, picked my panties up off of the ground, and gave them a deep sniff. "What the fuck are you doing?" I asked indignantly. "Just checking out what you smell like," he said. "Well, what does she smell like?" asked Mark. "Fish or chicken?" he laughed. "Stop the rudeness, guys," I ordered. "I'm not taking shit from either of you. You are going to put an end to that shit right now." "I'm just kidding," said Mark. "Really, Jane, we respect you on a personal and professional level. And I just want to say, on a side note, that you keep in beautiful shape. You really have a lovely frame. I enjoyed seeing you nude this morning. Seriously." "Yeah, me too," said Stan. "We are just joking. You always bail our asses out at work, and it is an honor to be on this trip with you. I know it hasn't turned out the way you expected, but please know that we respect you immensely." Maybe it was the booze running through my brain, but they seemed to be sincere. "So why are you sniffing my panties?" I asked Stan. "Because I think you are beautiful and attractive," replied Stan. "Other than my wife, I have never been close to another girl, and I just wanted to see whether your scents were the same." "All girls are different, Stan," I said. "I hope I smell okay." "You smell beautiful," said Stan, before again putting the panties up to his nose for another whiff. "I think you smell great too," added Mark. "I always love walking by your cube at work, because you wear the nicest perfumes. Hey Stan, toss those panties my way." Stan savored another whiff before tossing my panties over to Mark. He caught them and immediately put them up to his nose. As he sniffed them--and this was very amusing--I could see that his cock was starting to harden. I wasn't going to bring it up, but it was getting to be pretty obvious. Soon Stan noticed. "Oh, buddy, it looks like Jane's scent is making you 'swing some wood,' if you know what I mean," giggled Stan. At that point, we all started laughing. It was really funny. Mark was totally blushing. Seeing Mark get hard from sniffing my panties actually made me feel good. I felt attractive and womanly. "So another mystery is revealed," I joked. "I'd let you keep those panties, Mark, but I don't think your wife would like finding them." "Fuck, she would cut off my dick if she knew about this," he said. As I sat there looking at Mark, I became mesmerized by his hardening cock. It seemed to grow a little differently that of my boyfriend, who gets rock hard quickly. In contrast, Mark's cock seemed to gain hardness and length slowly, yet remain slightly pliable. I wanted to touch it. "Well, I'll take your erection as a compliment, Mark," I said. "But say, can I just touch that thing for a second?" I knew my request was crossing the line, but we were all friends and had been drinking way too much. At the time, the combination made it feel as though it was within the bounds of decorum. "Yeah," replied Mark. "You can touch it. But I want to touch your pussy, though. You have the most amazing, thick, juicy labia. It is so much different than my wife's. Is it alright if I touch it? I'm curious." I thought about it for a moment. Should I, or should I not, let Mark touch me? Stan, sitting over to the side of me, didn't say a word. I decided to clarify my intent. "What I am asking is different from what you are asking, Mark," I said. "How so?" "Because you are in a committed, married relationship and I'm not," I said. "Well, you have a boyfriend, right?" he asked. "Yeah, but I'm never going to marry the guy," I said. "There is a little more leeway to 'play' when one is not married." Mark, whose mind was flooded with booze, paused while trying to refashion his argument. "But I don't think copping a benign feel is cheating, is it? And if it is, does it matter if one has a spouse or a boyfriend?" "It does to me," I said. I looked over to Stan, who was haphazardly touching his cock while he listened. "What do you think?" "I'm not sure," he said. "Frankly, I'm too fucking drunk to think about it." Stan wiped the sweat from his brow and then resumed slowly touching his cock. He too was becoming erect. "All I know is this: there is a certain amount of sexual tension here. Jane, we both think you are beautiful. You just said that you want to touch Mark's cock. In terms of sexuality, everyone is different. I don't think that there is any harm in exploring one another, if it is consensual and educational. I think we are all a little pent-up and curious at this point." I took the initiative. Without saying a word, I got up from my bed and walked over to my bag to retrieve some hand lotion. I probably could have just used sweat from any one of our bodies, because it was horribly humid and we were hot and sticky, but the hand lotion had a better aroma. Then I walked in front of Mark and told him to lie down. After pouring a dab of lotion in my hand, I rubbed it into my fingers and palm, so that my hands were wet and creamy. Then I placed my hands onto Mark's erect penis and started stroking it slowly but firmly up and down, twisting my fingers as I worked my way up toward his bulbous tip. "Oh my fucking God," moaned Mark. "That feels so fucking good." I worked my hands around his shaft as though I was trying to milk him, yet I did not want him to cum. I continued my hand-job on him for a couple of minutes, but stopped before he blew his milky seed. He looked painfully on edge--he was craving release. On my end, the sight and feel of his penis was a major turn-on. I could feel my moistness increasing between my legs, and I'm sure both guys could smell my scent. Yeah, I had already been warm, but now I was a sweaty, creamy, hormonal mess. "Thanks for the feel," I said to Mark, as I took my hands off of him. He looked frustrated that I did not finish him off, but in a few seconds seemed to be okay with it. After all, I told him that I just wanted to feel his cock, not make him cum. I was under no obligation to take him over the edge. Mark then sat up and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Now I get to touch you," he said softly, pushing me back on the bed. I spread my legs to give him full access to my pussy. He started to run his fingers slowly up and down my labia, clearly fascinated by my engorged folds, and then moved his fingers up toward my clit. When he touched my clit, I almost jumped out of my skin in excitement. "Shit, Mark," I moaned, putting my hand on top of his as he fondled my clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. "Don't stop," I begged, arching my hips to meet his heavenly rubbing. He then slipped a finger inside of me, and moved it in and out. Then he put two fingers into me; then three. I was hot and dying for release, my pussy gripping his fingers like a vice. Then he stopped, pulled his fingers out of me, and licked them clean. "Feel good?" he asked, smiling. Surely he knew damn well that it felt good on my end. My brain was reeling from the pleasure. "Oh, yes, Mark. Oh, yes," I purred, trying to regain control of my breaths. We all sat up on our beds. I looked over at Stan, and he had been stroking himself as he watched Mark and I. We were all hot and bothered. I felt like asking them (either of them, as it didn't matter) to fuck me, but we weren't there yet. Our bodies craved release and satisfaction, but we were in committed relationships and worked together. It wouldn't be right. "So, Jane, how did you gain that muscle control?" asked Mark. "You were gripping my fingers pretty tightly." I did not answer immediately, as I was transfixed by the sight of his creamy, glistening cock, which was now oozing precum from its tip. I could not take my eyes off of it. I wanted it. "I do Kegel exercises," I eventually replied. "It makes my orgasms stronger, in addition to making my pussy tighter." "Your boyfriend must like that," added Stan, who was still fondling himself. "He does," I added. "When I work him hard, he tends to last only a few minutes at the most. Sometimes I can get him off in seconds. But he is always good for a second round." "Damn," interjected Mark. "I wish my wife were that tight." "Same here," said Stan. "But I don't think there is any way you could get a guy off in seconds." "Yes I can," I said. "Believe me. I've been doing it for years." Stan looked at me squarely in the eyes. "Prove it," he dared, as beads of sweat cascaded from his frame, down his half-erect cock, and dripped to the floor. "I'm not going to let you fuck me, Stan," I said. "You are married, have a mortgage, and three kids, including a child that is three months old. And we work together. No, I shouldn't let you fuck me." Even as those last words escaped my lips, I recognized that my response went from "not" to "shouldn't," leaving a slight opening for negotiation. Oh, yes, I wanted to fuck him, however wrong it would be. "Well, let's make a bet then," said Stan. "I'll bet you $500 that you can't bring me off in under three minutes." Hmm, three minutes. I could win that bet. As randy as he probably was, I thought my chances of getting him off in far less than that timeframe were also pretty good. "And what if I get you off in under two minutes?" I asked. "We can double it to $1000. Conversely, if I last more than five minutes, you will owe me $1000. And if we reach that mark, I get to continue fucking you until I'm done, okay? Even if it takes me an hour," said Stan, smiling but deadly serious. I looked over at Mark. He was licking his chops at the thought of seeing me get fucked. OMG, he was excited, but he didn't say anything. "It is not going to take you an hour. Trust me. I accept the bet," I replied. "Let's go over to the table in the corner. I think you will enjoy the angle a little more, as it is a little higher than the beds. Mark, can you help?" "Sure." We moved some of the pillows onto the table in the corner. I hopped up onto the table and got comfortable. I positioned my ass right to the edge of the table, with my legs dangling freely over the edge. We were going to fuck in the missionary position, right there in front of Mark. Stan came over and gave me a good looking over--he had the look of pure, undiluted desire. I'm sure he wanted to win the bet, but I think he wanted a piece of my flesh just as much, regardless of whether he won. At that moment, I recalled his earlier statement that he had never been with another woman other than his wife. I was going to be only the second girl he ever fucked. He was thirty-eight. And I was going to milk him dry, right there on the table. Stan moved between my legs, and then licked his palm and fingers. He used his spit to stroke himself to a full, hard erection. While he was readying himself, I casually fingered my moist slit, waiting for him. The thoughts running through my mind were surreal. I had never fucked a coworker before, and here I was going to fuck one in front of another coworker (yikes--how slutty). I reached down between Stan's legs to feel that rig of his. It was about six and a half inches, and it was thick--far thicker than my boyfriend's. Yeah, this will feel nice, I thought. I continued to stroke it, touching its purple tip, until he was ready. I was ready too. "You on the pill?" asked Stan. "Yep," I said confidently. "Let's rock, baby." "Can you keep time?" Stan asked Mark. Mark pulled out his watch. "I'm ready. Time will begin when the very tip of your penis penetrates her." I lay back on the table, my ass to its edge, my legs dangling in the air. He grabbed me by my hips and positioned himself directly at my dripping, sweaty, creamy opening. I closed my eyes, and prepared myself for the physical exertion that would be forthcoming. I was determined to grind him and milk him into the stratosphere. I wanted to make him blow his seed and his mind. Within seconds, I felt his large, throbbing cock head at my entrance, gradually pushing into me, inch by glorious inch. "Time starts now," said Mark. "Oh, my," said Stan, as he pushed into me. "Oooh, girl, this is going to be tough." He exhaled deeply as he took his first few slow, deep thrusts. "God you feel good." Stan felt great inside me, filling me completely. I've always been more impressed by a cock's girth than its length, and Stan, as he started working me over, was one of the largest men I ever had. Oh, he felt nice, touching all of my nerve endings. Yet I knew I had to get working. I sat up slightly while we fucked and used my right hand to grab his left hip. I made sure that he continued fucking me in a steady, even pace, and didn't slow down to keep from blowing his seed too early. No, I was going to keep the pace at an even tempo and get him off. That was my primary goal. Within seconds I started flexing all of my abdominal muscles, in an effort to grind the cream right out of his thick rod. "Fifty seconds," said Mark, who was keeping time while drooling at the sight of us. "Fucking work my pussy, baby," I urged, looking straight into his eyes. "Come on, Stan, fucking cream that pussy," I huffed. I knew talking dirty to him would help my cause, and I think it did, as he eventually closed his eyes to avoid making eye contact with me. I think the sights, sounds, and sensations were getting to him. Beads of sweat coated his entire body. When he started to thrust into me somewhat irregularly, I grabbed both of his hips and hammered him into me hard. "Oh fuck, oh shit..." huffed Stan, cascading towards the edge. "One minute, thirty seconds," said Mark. I continued to clasp and grind Stan's cock with my greedy pussy. I began to flex the muscles in my ass, gyrating my hips slightly to the thrusts of his pulsating member. His eyes remained closed, lost in time and space, huffing, trying to keep it together. "Come on, Stanley, give me that cream, honey," I begged. "Fucking cream my pussy, baby." "Two minutes, ten seconds," said Mark. My time was running out. The best I could do, if I got Stan off in the next forty seconds, would be to make $500. Happily, I still felt as though I had a chance to win. I used every muscle in my body to work him completely over. "Two minutes, thirty seconds," added Mark. "Give it to me, Stanley," I huffed. "Fucking breed me, baby. Fucking breed my coworker pussy right now, right on this fucking table, honey baby." That set him off. Stan arched his back, grunted deeply, and buried himself into me fully. The strength of his passion made me feel as though I was being ripped apart. He became massive as he pumped load after milky load of cream into my womanly depths. The sensations were a mixture of pain and pleasure, causing my eyes to widen, my lips to emit soft screams, and my body to tense. I then joined him in orgasmic bliss. I wasn't sure--and didn't care at that moment--whether I had won the bet. Buried into me to his hilt, with his manhood throbbing, stretching, and creaming inside of me, at that moment Stan and I became one. Stan then collapsed on top of me, with his throbbing meat still oozing seed inside of my womanhood. We were hot, sweating, and shaking. I pulled him close to me, and whispered, "Stay here for a minute." What started three minutes earlier as casual sex with a coworker now seemed so much more intimate when we reached our mutual orgasms. We remained on the table for what seemed like an eternity, as a pile of conjoined, creamed flesh. Eventually he got up and pulled out of me, his cock now flaccid. I sat up and noticed his milky vitality dripping from me. If I had not been on the pill, yes, he most certainly would have likely impregnated me. I must have drained every last drop of the fluids from his prostate, seminal vesicles, and testicles. Office Trip Stan, exhausted and weary, looked over at Mark. "I guess I lost, huh?" Mark smiled. "Yep. Jane got you to bust your nuts in exactly two minutes and forty-five seconds." Stan didn't seem to care that he lost the bet. "Damn, Jane, you know how to work that thing." "I told ya," I mumbled. "Now pay up." "Maybe we can charge your winnings to the company's credit card," said Stan. This caused all of us to laugh uproariously for at least two minutes. Several jokes ensued from that comment, which kept us in laughter for some time. Stan then went over to fetch some cigarettes from his bag. "Anyone want a smoke?" "I'll take one," I replied, even though I seldom smoke. I was still shaking like a leaf and needed something besides more booze to bring me down. Some nicotine would be good, indeed. He brought over a smoke in addition to five crisp $100 bills that he took from his wallet. Our debt was settled. We sat around, drinking more scotch, and getting loaded on nicotine. The temperature in the room was still close to unbearable, so we all sat around nude. Even twenty minutes after I had sex with Stan, I was still dripping his fluids. "For a three minute fuck, that was one of the hottest sessions I've ever seen," said Mark. "Damn, that was like porn but better." "Sorry to have left you out," said Stan, "but there was cash on the line. Besides, we needed an official timer." I didn't respond. I was ambivalent about the matter. The idea of having a threeway with both Mark and Stan was not something to which I felt obligated. I had been simply randy and hot, so I had sex with Stan. Maybe I should have finished the hand-job on Mark earlier, simply as a courtesy, but things had not escalated enough at that point. It was not my responsibility if anyone got "left out." I wasn't a fuck toy, after all. We continued to drink and smoke our way deep into the night. At around 2:00 AM, we decided to go to sleep. Instead of sleeping with our beds apart, we decided to put them all together. There were no secrets left between us, and we were all drunk, so it seemed logical to sleep en masse. It was not an entirely uneventful night, however. As I was lying on my side, I felt one of the guys behind me (I'm not sure which) part my legs slightly and slowly finger my pussy. I was still reeling a bit from the booze, and was tired, but his fingers felt wonderful. I didn't even look behind me to see who it was. I started to moisten, and opened my legs further. I proceeded to let whoever it was back there fuck me slowly and tenderly in the "spoon" position. Within minutes, the cock inside of me jerked, swelled, and blew yet another load of creamy seed into my womb, after which we returned to sleep. The cream oozing from my frame, coupled with the breeze coming through the window, felt warm and loving. The next morning I woke earlier than the others and looked at the alarm clock. It said 12:00 PM. Shit! We had missed half of the conference! "Guys!" I yelled. Mark and Stan shifted sleepily in the bed. "It is fucking noon! We overslept. The conference! What are we going to do? It ends at 4:00 PM today!" "Shit," said Mark. "I don't know, Jane. We can't go now, I don't think." Stan was hung-over and looked like a train wreck, but he too was giving it some thought. "I agree. We can't go now. They make everyone sign in and record the time people did so in their logbook, so either way we're fucked, if our boss learns about it. We can just 'wing' the presentation when we get back." "Well, we are in New Orleans for our last day," I said. "We might as well do some more sight-seeing and have a bourbon or two on the rocks for breakfast." "Sounds good," said Stan. "And maybe we can come back to the hotel and make a few more bets like we did last night." "Watch it, buddy boy," I said smiling. "Just so you know, the price of my pussy just went up $1000 today. Simple supply and demand, Mr. Financial Analyst." "Maybe we can add that news to our presentation when we get back," laughed Stan. Shortly thereafter, we went back into the city to play, hoping to make our last day in New Orleans as memorable as our first.