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Introduction:

A young woman seeks a job in a large office where nudity among women is the norm and public sex is a stress-reliever.

ABBEY & THE CEO

CHAPTER 10: GIVEN MORE

“OH FUCK! Oooooooooo … OH GOD … OHHHHHH FUUUCCKKKK”

I was deep inside her flexing thighs. Mrs. C had begun orgasming minutes ago but I kept at her. Her hands and arms were flying, smacking the bed, her head was turning side to side, her hip rose and dropped, her legs flexed at the knees and dropped back straight, and her thighs were flexing together and apart. All the while she cried out with words and sounds.

I was stretched out on my stomach inside her legs. I had two fingers in her drooling pussy, not fucking her with them as much as concentrating a strong, aggressive action on her g-spot. My mouth was covering her clit, the thumb of my other hand pulling back the hood to expose the throbbing, engorged pleasure nub which was currently firmly between my front teeth while the tip of my tongue flicked at it furiously.

She’s been orgasming in a steady sequence of rising peaks since the first one crashed over her. I’d never tried doing this before. For one thing, the office isn’t conducive to spending this kind of time. Mary, sweet Mary, might permanently lose her mind with that very sensitive clit of hers. But, Mrs. C, I’d come to realize how much she enjoyed the dual stimulation of g-spot and clitoris.

Her hand landed on my head. They had been flailing about or mauling her own breasts but occasionally came to rest on my head. So far, she hadn’t exerted any effort to push me away from convulsing body … but I was waiting for it.

Her thighs closed around my head and her hips rocked side to side as the shouts and cries continued between gasping and panting. Then, I felt it … she pushed at my head as her knees pulled up and her rocking increased. I pulled my fingers and mouth away. She immediately curled into a fetal position on her left side while her body continued shaking, shivering, and convulsing. I crawled up behind her and spooned into her, pulling her in against me with an arm around her shivering body. I kissed her upper back, shoulders, and neck while lightly stroking her her arm, side, and hip.

“God, Abby … I thought I might go crazy …” It had taken her a couple minutes to calm enough to get those few words out. She pressed back into me and raised her arm to allow my hand to slip underneath and cup one of her breasts. I simply cuddled her, my hand on her breast simply holding her, not fondling or stimulating. I waited with occasional kisses to her shoulder and neck.

Eventually, minutes later, she relaxed her legs and rolled over to face me, our faces inches apart. For a moment, she gazed into my eyes, then pursed her lips and I moved slightly to give them a kiss. She smiled and sighed contentedly.

“Thank you.” I shrug. “No … not that … though … wow! No, I mean thanks for coming into our lives. Joe and I have talked about it. What you’ve done for Joe is startling and that has been wonderful for me. It feels like I have my man back.” I start to deflect, but she interrupts. “Later.” She spun around and bounced out of bed. “I’m hungry … aren’t you hungry? Orgasms like that make me hungry. Does that happen to you? Isn’t that funny?” I just watched with a bemused smile. “We’re staying in, staying naked.” She looked at me and clapped her hands. “Come on, girl! Up and at ‘em. I want to see those boobs bouncing!” I chuckled and rolled to her side of the bed and bounced out of bed, too. She smiled as she watched my breasts.

“I’m home … where are you two?”

It was hours later and we were sitting on chaise lounge chairs sunning naked on the back patio. The back yard wasn’t really private but we decided it was private enough if we stayed where we were. We were also sipping wine.

“In back, Joe. You’re late.”

He started apologizing as he approached the French doors, but stopped. “Whoa … the most beautiful site possible to come home to …”

Mrs. C smiled at me and giggled. I love her giggle. “Nice recovery, Joe.” He came around in front of us and made no false pretense of not inspecting the naked flesh in front of him. My ankles were crossed and remained that way but Mrs. C dropped her feet off the side of her chair and stroked her shaved pussy. “She ravaged me, Joe. Most of the time you were gone … ravaged me. Three orgasms, I think. Who can count under those circumstances.” She reached across the narrow separation between our chairs and rolled one of my nipples. “Can I keep her, Joe? Locked in the bedroom with me? Can I, huh, can I?”

Mr. C smiled at his wife and winked at me. “Once again, dear, no. I need her at the office, too.”

She crossed her arms under her breasts and pulled up as if upset but kept her legs open. “Oh, pooh.” Her face reflected how much trouble she was having keeping from smiling. “You just want her mouth, pussy, and ass near that cock of yours.”

He stepped between our chairs and sat on the edge of hers, putting a hand on each of our bare thighs. He winked at me. These two were so playful. I loved being included. “Of course I do, dear. Just like you want her near your pussy.” Mrs. C couldn’t hold it back any longer and laughed as he slipped his fingers up to our pussies. I open my legs eagerly, of course. “Speaking of which …” I thought, speaking of which? “Have you talked to her?” Talked to me about what?

Mrs. C glanced at me before responding, “No, of course not, we agreed to do that together.”

“What’s going on you two?” He told me to be patient and assured me it was good. We had reservations for dinner.

I had just showered and drying my hair in the foggy bathroom of the guest suite when I heard a knock at the door which was partially open. I’m usually naked around them, anyway. Why close the door? I called out and Mr. C appeared at the open bathroom door. He handed me a small package and told me it was to be worn for dinner. He left and I continued with my hair.

* * * *

“It looks like a remote, Joe. You’re giving me a remote?”

“For the vibrating egg I just gave Abby,” he replied with a devious twinkle in his eyes. “But don’t show it or use it until she agrees.” She reacted with the same devious twinkle.

* * * *

Dinner was great. Of course, it was. He usually takes us to some of the best restaurants in the city. He shared, laughing, how his golf partners didn’t want to leave the club because they were hoping ‘that woman’ might show up again. Mrs. C looked at me and wiggled her eyebrows. I smiled.

The waiter, again, showed up and stood off my left shoulder. He was doing that a lot and there was no mystery to any of us as to why. My attire was the result of urging from the two of them. My black mini-skirt was tight and short enough that the lace of my dark thigh high stocks was just visible as I sat. The white sleeveless blouse was loose and just sheer enough to hint at anything underneath which happened to be my nipples as I was not wearing a bra by their strong urging. The loose fit of the blouse assured that my large breasts had freedom to move on their own and was increased by the gapping resulting from leaving the buttons undone to the point below my nipples. Standing at my left shoulder allowed the best downblouse view due to the way women’s blouses button. I could only pretend I wasn’t giving him (and others) a display of my breasts.

We each bypassed dessert and opted for an after dinner brandy. After the waiter retreated with our order, Mrs. C exclaimed it was time and she couldn’t wait any longer. I was confused, then remembered the earlier comment about saying something to me. Mr. C reached into his jacket and extracted folded sheets of paper. Sitting at a table for four with Mrs. C and I on either side of him, he placed the folded sheets on the table with his hand on it, moved it to me, and kept his hand on top of it saying it was the result of deliberate consideration and hopeful intention.

Even more confused, I took the sheets and unfolded them but held them close as our drinks arrived. It was two pages. It was written formally. The first line was really a heading in bold: Proposed modification of the Personal Assistant agreement between Abby Thomas and Joseph Cornell, CEO of Alliance Corporation. I looked up to find he and Mrs. C holding hands and watching expectantly. I pressed on by first scanning the top page.

“I don’t understand,” I mused almost to myself, “there are only minor modifications here about my time spent in the office and accountability of my duties. It suggests that I am only accountable to you, sir. I thought I already was.” He just nodded and waited. Although that expectation was certainly true, my employment agreement was still set around the normal office hours which was a part of all such agreements. I saw nothing affecting salary or benefits. He nodded to the document. Okay … two pages. I turned to the second page.

Again, a bold heading for the first line: Proposed PERSONAL & PRIVATE Personal Assistant agreement between Abby Thomas and Samantha Cornell. I looked up at her and found a look of intense anticipation. I looked over at him. They both waited. I again scanned the document … maybe more than scanned this time. It briefly and loosely suggested an arrangement quite similar to mine with Mr. C but with Mrs. C to assist her in organizing, scheduling and coordinating her increasing community activities and assisting her in the performance of the duties of those roles. Very similar to what I was doing for Mr. C, basically anything he wanted me to do from filing and word processing to assistance in management, sales and negotiations. How would I possibly manage doing this for both of the them? Though loosely structured, there was much more. There was a substantial additional salary separate from Alliance. There was an offer of a work desk in the large office they shared in their home. In their home? Then, a few lines further … the offer of a bedroom suite across the hall from their own master bedroom … the suite I used when I spent weekends filled with play and sex. I looked up, again. They wanted me to live with them? Still, they waited. The offer of a new car for my personal use as well as for my duties. Blah, blah, blah. More words but of little impact … basically assuring of my freedom to live a life.

I took a sip of brandy … and another. I looked up. “You want me to live with you?”

Mr. C laughed, “That’s the part that grabs you?”

Mrs. C took over, “That was my idea. You’ve spent time with us, already. You feel like part of us. We know you and trust you … I’ll say it … we love you. You’ve made such a difference in our lives. We hoped you feel the same way.” I nodded numbly. I did but this was a lot to take in. She went on, “Okay … I’ll say it … I need help. I’m not Joe. I know that. But, he pushed me to get active, to use some of our money to help others, help the city and region. Turns out I like doing it and I have had some success and that speech you help me with increased calls for my participation and involvement. Abby, I need help … your kind of help … the way you help Joe by keeping his schedule, organizing him, proofing what he does.”

We talked about it while having another brandy. She was right about how we felt about each other and the trust and respect. And, I have really enjoyed assisting her and having her bounce thoughts and ideas off me. Finally, I leaned forward and fixed a look on each. “I am honored … blown away … by the offer. To work closely with both of you would be … wonderful. How does it all fit into a day, though?”

“That’s why you live with us,” Mrs. C responded. “Look … Abby … when Joe and I started talking about this possibility, what first jumped out at us was that you are a young woman with a life just beginning. We get that. That’s why we tried to make our idea as attractive as possible. But, as much to entice you, we wanted to be fair and build you a nest-egg for your future. We don’t want to take over your life. It would kind of be like working in politics … always involved but without the politics.” She smiled. “We understand this is temporary … you’re young and will want to seek other options and opportunities. Until then, though …”

I looked seriously at both of them … again. “I feel like I would be a serious third-wheel in your relationship … an intrusion.”

He laughed and put his hands on top of Mrs. C’s and mine on the table. “Seriously? The way the three of us carry on together?”

“That’s the other thing,” Mrs. C offered. “The way you sex the two of us … we’re excited to see where things might go … if you were really a part of us.”

Maybe she could see my coming response from my face. She leaned over between herself and Mr. C and dug something out from her purse as I gave it a final consideration. I mean, really … I felt closer to them than I did to anyone, I loved working with each of them, I trusted both completely, and respected both fully. Besides, that guest suite was nearly as big as my apartment. I picked up the pages and scanned the second sheet once more, a smile easing bigger and bigger on my face as I did.

“How could I say, no?” A split second later … that egg I was still curious why he wanted me to put into my pussy exploded in furious vibration. I gasped. A low moan escaped but I couldn’t begin to worry about any nearby tables hearing. My hands dropped the pages and grasped the edge of the table as I sagged forward, my mouth open with another gasp and sigh. Just then, the waiter returned, noticed my reaction (probably by gaping blouse, too), and asked if I was alright.

“Excitement, I think,” Mr. C responded. I sure couldn’t. “I think she is just overwhelmed. We offered her a new position. I think we’ll get her home.”

Home. FUCK. I forced my head up and plastered a smile on my face that I hoped was convincing. “Yes … a good … idea. Sorry …”

Mr. C asked for the check and Mrs. C rose to assist me up. After only a couple steps toward the entrance, I mumbled, “Can you turn that thing down a few notches? I might … ooooooo … I might …”

Mr. C appeared and took my other arm. Mrs. C brightly but softly announced, “I think she might actually cum right here.”

“Maybe you should turn it down.”

“No way. Let’s just get her outside.”

Fuck. I was definitely going to orgasm. They better hurry. They did. I staggered between them like a drunk. The large egg shape with a flexible antenna tail sticking out of me had apparently become wedge next to my g-spot when it suddenly became active … and it must have been set on high. The sensation immediately exploded inside me and hadn’t let up since. My abdomen almost ached in desperate need to cum and I could barely concentrate on anything but that sensation including walking and the high heels didn’t help much.

Reaching the car, I leaned my butt against it as Mr. C dug for his key fob while Mrs. C supported me. It was then I noticed a very devious smile on her face. Her hands moved to my gaping blouse, pulled it completely out of the skirt, unbuttoned the remaining few buttons before leaning over to kiss and suck each nipple. My brain struggled with a short conversation.

“Let’s get her into the car before she starts wailing.” “No, here, I want her to do it here.” “Samantha … are you sure? Someone might come out any time.” “She’s an exhibitionist, Joe. She’s just learning how much of one. We don’t know what boundaries she has. She doesn’t know. She’s done everything we’ve suggested.” “Okay, what do you want to do?” “Take off her blouse. I’ll work on the skirt. But, hurry. I think she’s going too explode like she never has.”

God. They’re going to strip me in the parking lot of a nice restaurant. They intend for me to orgasm in public … at night but a lit parking lot … ohhhhh … I’m sooooooo closssssse. I need … to cum … fuck … everything … else … I just … neeeeeeeeeed … ooooooooo … TO CUM!

A moment later my entire body shook and quaked. My legs sagged so both of them had to grab me and keep me off the pavement of the lot. I heard the start of a scream that was quickly muffle which made my gasping, panting breathing more difficult. Lips and tonuge were working my nipples while fingers were adding stimulation to my clit. It seemed I couldn’t stop orgasming as wave after wave of the sensation crashed over me as the device inside me continued and was augmented by the touches outside me.

I woke in the backseat of the car. I was naked except for my stockings. What happened? I remembered in the next moments the dinner, the offer, accepting it, and then …. I pushed against the seat to look out as we passed the gate into their residential community. My words came out in a slur.

“What … what happened? Why am I naked?”

Mrs. C turned around, restricted by her seat belt. “You had quite an orgasm, dear. We’ll explain everything in the morning.”

The answer seemed to satisfy me as I let my head drop back. “Okay,” I responded numbly.

* * * *

“Yes, sir?” I saw the light on the phone system blink off indicating Mr. C had hung up from a call followed by his voice calling my name. I rose from my own desk, grabbed the tablet to take any necessary notes or calendar checks, and moved to his open door. This morning I had opted for white: white lace choker, white garter belt, white cheer stockings, and white strap heels. While every other woman in the office opted for more covering, I remained nearly naked. Some days I was completely naked, including barefoot. I think Mrs. C was right about not yet understanding my boundaries. I really enjoyed exhibitionism.

“Do you need something, sir?”

“You.”

“Oooooo …” I put my palms on the desktop and leaned forward. His eyes predictably moved from my face to my breasts as they hung and swung from the motion. He loved that and I knew it.

A huge smile covered his face. “Not that … not now, anyway. You do tease me.” I took one of the guest chairs in front of his desk and readied the tablet for business. I crossed my legs as if I could be demure like I was dressed (or undressed).

“It’s not a tease, sir, when I will eager give it.” He smiled as he nodded.

“This is about you not business.” I closed the tablet and waited. What about me, I wondered. “I just got off the phone with my personal lawyer. You’re free of the apartment and all your belongings are loaded and on their way ‘home’.” He emphasized the word home for significance. My own smile formed on my mouth. Whatever was coming, besides more work, excited me. Especially after what they had done to me at the restaurant resently. He slid a set of keys and fobs across the desk. I caught them and looked. He continued, “Your car is being picked up as we speak and this car will be in the same spot in the parking lot.”

I looked at the fob insignia. “A Lexus?”

He smiled, again. “What should I say? Your car needs to fit into my residential area or you deserve a really good car?” I was stunned. “Both are true.”

“I don’t know what to say, sir. I don’t think all of this had really sunk in.”

“Well … wait until Samantha gets finished with you.” I looked up from the fob puzzled. “I suspect there will be clothes, etc. involved.” I had no idea this was going to happen. I imagined using their guest suite like I had on weekends.

“I really don’t know what to say, sir. I do know what I can do, though.”

“What does our schedule look like?”

“An hour and a half before your call to New Jersey.” I put the tablet on the other chair and stepped around his desk. As I did, he rotated his chair and I went to my knees, opened his slacks, took out his flaccid, magnificent shaft of pleasure, and smiled as my mouth moved forward to meet it. I held the shaft up and licked from the base to the head as if it were a gigantic, obscenely shaped Popsicle. Then, I licked down one side and back up the other. I paused, the stiffening cock in my fingers, my nipples erect, and pussy becoming wet. I looked up at him, “Is this going to work, sir?”

“It already is.”

I giggled. “Not this,” I responded with a kiss the thickened head, “me living with you?”

“You’re concerned?”

I nodded. “The last thing I want is to mess things up between you and Mrs. C.”

He traced his fingertips over my cheek. “You really have no idea how much you do for us, do you? It was our idea, an idea that was really somewhat selfishly motivated. Our life has become very exciting with you in it.”

I took his cock back into my mouth and, with more deliberate and intention, worked it deep into my throat. In moments, it was rigid and his groans indicated a choice was needed. I pulled my mouth off his cock and began stroking it as I looked up. I stood slowly, opened the top right drawer of his desk and took the ever-present tube of lubrication from it. As he watched, I spread some on his cock and my asshole. I turned and leaned over the desk, my ass pointed at him.

“I want you in my ass, sir.” I looked at him over my shoulder. “I want that feeling I get that I am yours … that you know I will do whatever it is you want.” He stood, grasped my ass cheeks and spread them. His cock slid up from my pussy to my asshole and back down several times. I sighed at the feeling of imminent penetration there and sucked in a breath as I felt it press at the puckered hole. I grunted and groaned as he slowly worked it past the tight sphincter and stopped. I groaned as that area eased and adjusted. I looked back again as I eased my hips back further onto his cock. “I feel that way about Mrs. C, too, sir.”

“I know you do, dear,” he stated as he thrust hard nearly all the way into my ass. “That’s one of the reasons the three of us are so good together.”

I was getting fucked hard and deep. I must have really turned him on with the talk. I sagged to my elbows on the desk, my nipples grazing the desktop as they swung beneath me. I was oblivious to everything but the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of my tight ass, my stimulation rising to a fever pitch. Then, voices penetrated my mind but I chose to ignore them.

“Oh … sorry, Joe … should I come back?”

“Nonsense.”

“She is hard to resist, isn’t she?” Ms. Benson’s voice.

“Too hard. But then I decided there really was no reason to resist.” Several grunts. He smacked my ass. “She likes being fucked. Needs to be fucked.” Grunts. “This … comes from her.” Grunts. “And a hell of an assistant.”

A chuckle from Ms. Benson. “Her mouth and tongue are pretty wonderful, too.”

Then they talked business as I came on his cock. A piece of fuck-meat. A shameless slut who didn’t care who saw her. But I wasn’t only that … and they all knew that.

* * * CHAPTER 11: THE VIDEO will follow * * * Thanks for reading.

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