Whatever It Takes Pt. 01: Trust - Sex Stories

Whatever It Takes Pt. 01: Trust

This is the first of a three part series. Fair warning: this story covers a range of kinks and fetishes. And so if that isn't your thing, beware - and don't say you weren't warned. Enjoy.

'You said you wanted to fix this, fix us.'

There had been tears, tears leading up to this moment. But this was something different. Now Sarah looked resolute. Now Sarah looked unshakeable. Now Sarah appeared righteous in her determination.

'I do, I do want to fix this,' I said, and god did I mean it. Cos, in the end, whatever else, I'd done this, this was my fault, I'd done this to us, and not just once, but over and over.

'I want to trust you again, Tom. But that'll take time. And until then, I need this.' She pushed the box towards me, the contents clinked, metal against metal.

'But...' I said.

'If we're to have a chance, Tom, if this is going to work, it's got to be like this. This is the only way.'

And this is what we'd agreed. Well, not this, not this exactly, but that I'd do what was needed, that I'd do whatever it takes.

Because in the end, it was all my doing. I'd fucked up. I fucked up, and she'd caught me red-handed. It was all me.

It started with Kayla. Kayla the intern.

She'd been dispatched to my team for the first quarter, because quarter one was where the interesting stuff happened, because quarter one was a mean motherfucker, and because head office, and the good lord himself, knew that we'd need the help.

And so they sent Kayla. Kayla of the ...

... blush red lips. Kayla of the too short, too tight skirt. Kayla of the gravity defying breasts. Kayla of the pale fleshy thighs. Kayla of the perfect ass. Kayla who was forever there, Kayla who was forever needy, Kayla who just could not do enough.

It'd started with late nights at the office, Kayla by the copier, and me, fucking idiot that I am, with far too much time to kill. Then the coffee machine with my stupid fucking jokes, stupid fucking stories, and stupid blind belief that this could actually lead somewhere and somewhere better.

Then my office. Whether it was her or me, we moved to my office.

Tom, she said - at some point she'd begun to call me by my forename.

Tom, and she's sucking at her finger, looking bashful, now into my space, her free hand against my hip, and the scent of her, god, the scent of her, so unlike Sarah, so unfamiliar, so fresh, so new.

I'd lowered the blinds earlier that afternoon to take a call and then to focus on the quarter end report. Later, the two of us in the dim. The floor empty, everyone had left hours ago. Just Kayla and I. Kayla sucking at her finger. Kayla pressed against my hip. Then Kayla on her knees, unbuckling and lowering my trousers and shorts.

She held my cock in the warmth of her hands, her fist hiding all but the crown, swollen, weeping precum. And if she was disappointed she did not show it. She did show me tongue, from the round of my balls to the tip of my shaft. And then she took me to the base, throat ...