Masturbating Partners

I always get to our staff meetings late, and today is just another one of those days where I straggle in twenty minutes past eight AM and get to my seat. I'm usually prompt when it comes down to everything else, but it just so happens that the partners at our law firm are particularly late to these meetings themselves. I, nor the other lawyers at our firm, have any issues with their tardiness, it's just something that we all have accepted.

I guess...part of that acceptance stems from the fact that our partners aren't traditional looking; at my previous firm, all the lawyers were stuffy-looking men in their forties on up, but our partners are...

Our partners are both women, and no they're not the kind of women you expect to run a well-oiled machine like our firm: they're not in their forties, they're not divorced or married, and they're not unattractive in the slightest. It probably sounds misogynistic of me to assume that a female lawyer has to be one of those things to be realistic, but my short amount of time in the field has shown me the same variation of women up until I came across our partners.

It finally comes time for them to walk into the office, and as always, it's over thirty minutes past eight when they do.

But, seeing them takes all the bite out of anyone's disposition...because they're fucking gorgeous.

They're gorgeous, there's just no lighter way of putting it.

Alessia Michaelson is the founding partner: an assertive blonde who I know is only thirty-two based on her online business profile. She graduated from Harvard Law with a close-to-perfect GPA, and that's only partially due to her photographic memory so she says. She usually sticks to wearing darker colors, and so her black, pleated miniskirt and blazer, along with her gray button-up, are an expected choice for the day.

Next to Alessia is Mila Garcia. Mila, while not as assertive upfront, has a sternness to her that everyone respects. I'll say that while I've never personally been reprimanded by either of the partners, a few of my colleagues have and they all say that Mila is usually the one to crack the whip.

Mila is a brunette with bone-straight hair, delicate (some might say 'prissy') features and coffee-colored eyes. She tends to be the busybody out of the two, so it's her who starts to hand out the report that lets us know which new cases the firm has taken on for the month.

Mila, like Alessia, is wearing a blazer and miniskirt ensemble, though it's in a shade of plum instead of black, with a white button-up.

At present, they talk amongst themselves at the head of the room, and I struggle with staring as always. They're hard not to look at, both of them have smooth legs that are miles long and neither of them ever seem to bother wearing a bra underneath their blouses. Their breasts aren't huge, but it's hard not to notice the occasional hardened nipple.

"Good morning, everyone!" Alessia breaks away from Mila to greet the rest of us. There's ten of us total, that's including our partners, and so the eight of us who are sitting echo back a 'good morning.'

"Great to see everyone, no time for chit chat though so let's just get to the cases. We're using this meeting to talk about a new case we've taken on, but winning this could mean a substantial bonus for whoever we choose to hop on."

Everyone perks up at that. Although bonuses aren't common, we all know that whoever gets picked to work on a case will reap most of the benefits. Already, I can see hands itching to raise, but I keep myself from looking too eager.

Alessia takes a look around at the table again before her blue granite eyes zero in on the people across from me:

"Tom, Derek, Sachin, and Oliver, we know you all have cases you're working on already so we're just focusing on the rest of the team."

That eliminates half of the group at least. I'm not a vindictive person, but I do remember them gloating about being the heavy-hitters at the firm so this feels like divine retribution.

Among the ones who are left to choose from, there's me, the person who I'm closest to at the firm: Charleston, and two others who I speak to in passing, and occasionally give help to when they ask for it.

Still, I'm not expecting the partners to say my name even though I'm hoping for it--but by some great twist of fate, I'm the exact person that they call.

Alessia is the one to speak: "We were really thinking of you, Christopher."

Every eye turns to me, including Charleston. I feel him give my shoulder a congratulatory squeeze while everyone else murmurs some form of the same sentiment.

"Wow," I say, being sure to look Alessia in the eye, and then Mila, before I continue, "Thanks, I'd love the opportunity, honestly."

"Of course," Mila says, I've always noticed that her tone is a little huskier than Alessia's, but I don't think I've heard it sound so friendly until then. She gets up from her chair with a Manila folder in hand, which she drops in front of me. When she leaned down to drop the folder, I caught a whiff of something expensively warm and sweet-smelling, her perfume--and it lingers even after she's gone to sit down,

"That's the Katawanski file," Alessia nods toward the folder, "you can flip through it now while we brief everyone on it."

I do as she suggests and start looking through the file: it's a divorce case, which is what our firm usually handles, except this divorce is concerning a multi-billion dollar estate.

"So, our firm will be handling the Katawanski divorce. Our client is the husband, who claims that there was some infidelity with the soon-to-he-former, Mrs. Katawanski. You all can see where this is going...he doesn't want to give her any part of his estate, and she's asking for at least thirty percent of everything. We want to work in our client's best interest, so Christopher, we'll discuss negotiating techniques and schedule a meeting with the Katawanskis before the week is over."

I nod, and Alessia takes that as her cue to continue: "Christopher, review that file overnight and once you're done, come see Mila and I with any questions tomorrow. Sounds good?"

"Uh...sounds great," I reply, and the meeting continues. I'm only half-listening because now I realize that I'll be spending a lot of time with the partners until this case is over, and a divorce like this one can take months to reach a point of contention.

I can't help but to look at them with a little more focus on their features, like that'll help me normalize being around them when the time comes. I like to think that I don't have the tendencies of a teenage boy, but most men can all admit that there's always going to be some part of us that's a little teenaged when it comes down to attractive women; I feel a lot like a guy who just got asked to study with two of the hottest girls in class, or a college kid whose roommates happen to be replicas of the partners in front of me. There's a lot of nerves there, but I don't want to let those nerves trump my professionalism.

After the meeting, I go to my respective cubicle and I start to go through the file in detail. I'm just finishing up with taking notes and cross-referencing their contacts, when I notice a gap in the client's file. It could be that Alessia and Mila forgot to include a page in the file, or it could be that there wasn't anything there in the first place. I know that the only way to really find out is to approach them in their office and ask.

I'm on my way there, with the Katawanski file in-hand, when I hear something coming from one of the conference rooms.

I know from experience that our conference rooms are never in use unless there's a client actively in the building--and there's never a client actively in the building unless Alessia and Mila send an email about one. So, whoever is in one of the conference rooms...isn't supposed to be there.

It's not the most taboo thing someone can do, but Alessia and Mila would have a fit if they found out that someone was--

Wait a minute...

Each conference room has a horizontal, rectangular pane of glass to look through, and as I bring my eyes to that piece of glass, I find out two things:

The people in the conference room are Alessia and Mila

And...

Alessia and Mila...are undressing.

It's a mixture of shock and perversion that root me to the spot as Alessia unbuttons her blouse. She doesn't take it off, but she unbuttons it enough that I can see that she's not wearing a bra. Her tits are petite yet still round enough to grab onto it, and they're decorated with the prettiest nipples I've ever seen; her nipples are pink, like bubblegum, and the area surrounding them is about the size of a dime. Alessia has beautiful breasts, even under the luminescent office lighting, they're the hottest things I've seen in a long time. Thinking she's going to take off her skirt next, I feel a jolt of surprise when she just casually shimmies out of her panties with her skirt still on.

Her panties are black like her skirt, as Alessia is always one to match, but I can't make out their detailing since they're now on the floor. Without taking anything else off, Alessia climbs on top of the conference room table, a table just like the one we were all sat at earlier, and allows her tanned, smooth-shaven legs to fall open.

You have to imagine...on a slate gray conference table, in an otherwise drab conference room, there's a hot blonde--your boss in a sense-- with her shirt unbuttoned and her legs open...without panties on.

In real fucking time, I'm staring right into her glistening, perfectly pink pussy. She's all velvety, clean, folds that look too good to be true. I know my view isn't giving her half the justice she deserves, but the fact that I'm seeing something so personal at all is too much too soon.

There's only one reason why I can imagine her doing something like this: her and Mila must be sleeping together. Speaking of Mila: she's getting undressed next, but she loses her clothes much faster. She chooses to lose her skirt completely, but keeps her red panties on. Alessia shoots her a look that's scolding, but not with its usual heat, and Mila smirks. It's an expression I've only seen her wear in the courtroom after winning a case, but in this sexual atmosphere, the tug of her lips is enough to send a hungry throb through my groin.

Even though I can't hear anything, this is an exchange that I don't ever get to witness. In front of us: the team, they're always professional, they never lose their tempers, and they never flirt with anyone. They're completely ethical bosses, but behind closed doors..

Mila gets up on the conference table right next to Alessia, spreads her legs wide open, and places her neatly French-manicured hand on the front of her carmine panties. I see her turn her head and say something else to Alessia, but I can't tell what. I really don't know what's about to happen, but I'm rapidly swelling against the front of my slacks and I don't know how to stop it.

All it would take is for one of them to look toward the door, to see me, watching them and getting off on it. Even while knowing that, though, I can't just walk away without finding out what it is they plan on doing. So, I focus on staying as still as possible as Mila stuffs her hand down into her panties and starts wantonly rubbing herself.

Her eyes close, her face creases with pleasure, and she rocks her hips while I see one of her digits pumping behind her soiled panties. Then, there's Alessia, who has no panties on so all I can see is her rubbing her nubby clitoris feverishly; her fingers look to be swirling around in a moisture that's already there. She's taking a different approach from Mila, but neither of them seem to be watching the other's progress as they get themselves off.

Back up the hall, I can hear the light rustle of papers and the chatter of a few people, all of them, all of us, have been oblivious to a practice that doesn't seem to be new amongst our bosses.

The soundproof conference rooms are perfect for this kind of activity, this carnal act that only they know about.

Alessia has started to grow a little sweaty, and her perfect hair is clinging to her neck while she pumps two fingers into her sticky, little hole. I don't think I've ever seen Alessia look so flustered, her face is completely flushed with color, and as she tips her head back to pleadingly lock eyes with the ceiling, the throb of my cock only grows faster.

If I so much as touch myself, I'm going to burst right in my pants.

So, I grip the Katawanski file like my life depends on it, curving my fingers around it until the paper starts to bend.

Mila is still fingering herself beneath her panties, and her painted mouth widens more and more as she looks to be getting closer with every lusty thrust of her fingers. I bounce between looking at her, and looking at Alessia as the latter has started to draw nearer to a climax too--spreading herself open with one hand, while her other hand sends one finger flying into her achingly. I can't see what Mila is doing exactly because her panties are still on, but Alessia's bare pussy is visibly wrapped taut around her finger as she pounds it into herself like a jackhammer.

It's almost like they're in competition, but both of them seem equally desperate to come, and now Mila has rucked her panties off to the side while she tears into herself in a way that I can only describe as...slutty. She looks irreparably slutty as she rides her fingers, with her eyes lustfully hooded, and her inner thighs slickened, it's enough to make me want to run into that room and have my way.

The throbbing between my own legs has affected my whole cock by this point, and all I can think about is coming with them, sharing in their ecstasy.

I'm close, and I haven't even touched myself.

Mila is the first to come; she's absolutely mesmerizing as her legs open then shut, clearly shaking to the point that she goes knock-kneed. I still can't hear, but I see her sexy face contort into something that shows just how much pleasure she's feeling. It's an unmistakable fuck-face, losing all of its sternness and emanating a pleased weakness.

It nearly takes me there too...but Alessia isn't done yet.

She's still fingering herself, still spreading herself and humping her fingers like a fiend. Her perky little tits jump as Mila's orgasm seems to push her to be harder on herself. She hates coming in second in any capacity, apparently.

I distantly hear myself panting, imagining Alessia riding my cock the way she's riding her fingers. There's this look of sweaty determination she has on her face that tells me she's overthinking even this, but then I can tell that she can feel it...

Her face loses that determination, and it finally melts like Mila's, into something that's just pure submission to whatever she's feeling.

That look is so raw, so unlike her usual disposition, so personal--that I feel my cock throb incessantly before it erupts like a fucking volcano. I have to bite my tongue to stop myself from grunting, groaning, anything as liquid heat shoots to my tip and spurts out into my boxers. In all my years, I don't think I've ever come in my boxers, and Alessia is still coming once my own climax subsides--but...

Something must have given me away, because even as pleasure-stricken as her blue eyes still are, they're locked onto mine as she proceeds to squirt all over the conference table beneath her. It's a puddle I can't unsee, a filthy explosion of her juices that even she seems embarrassed by as her eyes remain closed long after she comes.

I don't know what it means now that she knows that I've been watching her and Mila, but I can't stick around now to find out. So, I, like a dolt, stumble to the nearest bathroom.

And await my fate.