Secretarial Duties 2 - Party with the Boss - Sex Stories

Secretarial Duties 2 - Party with the Boss

... orgasming. Totally oblivious to her surroundings, she grabbed her breasts and squeezed them hard, kneading her nipples. The intensity subsided after a minute. Reynolds pushed himself out from under her, turning her onto her back as he did. Patricia realized Johnson was approaching, with something long, white, and skinny in his hand. It had a cord dangling off one end. She felt a hand on either shoulder, pulling her backwards and pushing her onto her back on the couch. She heard a hum and felt something vibrate against her pussy. The effect was electrifying! After so much fucking, her clit was hypersensitive. Patricia writhed on the couch as best she could, but her shoulders and ankles were being held. She looked up into Large Man's leering face. It was his hammy pawns holding her shoulders. “Just give up, cunt. We're going to fuck you senseless.” He was practically drooling. The relentless throbbing at her pussy couldn't be ignored. Patricia jerked violently, another orgasm absorbing her. That was the last thing she remembered clearly. She remembered swallowing lots of loads, and cocks in her ass, her pussy, her mouth, her hands, everywhere. She wasn't sure how many different men there were – it might have been the four, it might have been twenty or more. She had a vague recollection of men cheering as Large Man f***ed his thick cock into her ass. She was pretty sure she had licked him clean afterwards, too. She remembered other things, but they weren't at all clear. When ...

... she regained her senses, she was on the couch. Her butt was sore, her asshole was sore, her thighs were sore, her jaw was sore. She was exhausted. There was dried jism on her belly, on her breasts and chest, and on the upper parts of her stockings. She was pretty sure that her face was covered, too. One stocking had a run from her toe to her knee. She could feel a slimy discharge in her crotch. She couldn't see her shoes. Her bra, blouse, and skirt were neatly folded on the back of the chair where she deposited them. The door opened and Mr. Johnson walked in, carrying some towels. “Good. You've come 'round. Here, clean up. There's a mirror on the back of my lavatory door.” He helped her stand, then gave her the towels. Gingerly, Patricia walked to Mr. Johnson's private restroom. Her knees were shaky and her butt hurt. The slimy discharge started oozing down her legs, too. Not a pleasant sensation. Overall, though, she felt surprisingly good. Sweaty, slimy, and sore, but good. She looked in the mirror, debated, and decided that a shower was probably in order. She turned on the water, and removed her garter and the ruined stockings. Mr. Johnson walked in without hesitation and put his hands on her waist, pulling her ass against his crotch. “Mmmmm. Nice ass. And you use it so nicely.” She stood, now completely naked except for the dried jism, and faced him defiantly. “Yes, I do. Now are you going to let me shower, or do you want to fuck again?” Her bluff wasn't quite as effective ...