Slutty Ceo - Roadtrip

Oops.

So what was she going to do now? The damage was way beyond repairable, let alone an easy fix and something that would be a constant problem for her for the rest of the day.

It had been a relief to finally switch off the engine, but on exiting the car and standing up, she had found the main seam on her short skirt had split and begun a slow but steady unstitch from the bottom hem, up towards her belt. With it as sexily short and tight as it had been originally around her thighs, it was now opening like a decadent pair of curtains in an Amsterdam brothel.

Why hadn't she chosen attire with an underskirt or lining? She had been so fixated on prepping for and planning the driving game with the three men, she hadn't considered anything more than dressing to turn them on during the journey in order to get them to cum before reaching their destination and complete her obligations.

Her companions obviously weren't aware of her predicament in that instant or perturbed that a lot of her bare flesh was now going to be on constant exhibition for the next few hours. They stood chatting to each other whilst waiting for her to lock up and lead the way into the conference, looking over with mild interest at her problems but with no dismay and offering no solutions.

She checked her handbag and realised she had forgotten her lipstick. Where was that? She rummaged back and forth amongst the assorted paraphernalia within, half hoping that she could also find a clip or pin of some sort to keep the skirt material together.

Fruitless.

The lipstick was in the centre console beside the gear selector. No clip or pin was found in the bag.

Fuck.

Without thinking, she bent back in for the lipstick and heard the tell-tale rip of more threads holding the material together, rip up another few inches towards the zip.

Shit. That was careless.

Reflectively applying a coat of red to her lips, she contemplated on what to do. It wasn't all lost. The short skirt was still held together around her waist by a simple belt, but it gaped lewdly at the seam.

She didn't have another skirt or dress with her and there didn't look to be any retail stores in the vicinity on their way in to this out-of-town complex.

Shit.

This was going to be a long day with more of her flesh on display, for a lot more people than she had expected or planned on catering for.

And what a day to not have underwear with her.

There wasn't the option of postponing their involvement in the conference, so she would just have to count on her own bravado and her companion's assistance, with getting her through it.

Should she have the gaping open vee of her skirt expose her pussy, or should she turn it around to expose her bottom instead? Both options had their merits and she could only imagine the reaction of the delegates in the centre as they met her face on and saw either her shaved wet pussy lips, or the entire crack of her ass whenever they followed her anywhere.

The only reasonably demure option was to turn her open vee to one side or the other and show the entire length of a suspender strap instead? This was the preferable option and the only reasonable solution. On inspection, the waist hem of the skirt looked hardy enough above the zip, and the disintegrating seam would stop at that point which meant she wouldn't lose the entire garment. Her blouse was hardly long enough to pass off as a Summer dress, but if it got to that point, she would have to clamp the skirt material around her and leg it back to the car.

If she could avoid that necessity at all costs, it would be better for the company of course.

She twisted the skirt around and looked at the result. Thank goodness for small mercies. Displayed thighs in this instance would be the better option than the complete exhibition of her most intimate places.

She looked at the three waiting men. None of them appeared to be wearing anything that was appropriate or surplus to their requirements that she could borrow. Back to Plan A.

A side view would have to do.

She looked extremely statuesque in her skyscraper heels. With a display of confidence in all her movements, everyone would assume that her state of dress had been planned. Maybe no one would be able to tell that she was knickerless too, though the now obvious stockings strap was a bold statement, the lace stockings top, a public flirtation.

Shit, she had a missing top button on her blouse too. Where the fuck did that go? She looked down and realised that the mild scoop of cleavage she had planned for, now looked like an open window. One of her passengers groping her earlier had caused that whilst grabbing and mauling at her breasts. He had obviously snagged and pulled a button away in his haste and fervour.

Never mind. She quickly picked at the remaining thread and cleared it to make it look natural and designed on her blouse rather than shambolic.

Regarding herself in the reflection of the car window in the underground carpark, she realised that she looked like a complete slut, especially in her stilettos, with now an extra acre of thigh and breast on display too.

But as much as she felt the nerves in that moment, there was also an incomprehensible feeling of dampness between her legs. 'Come on, girl,' she told herself, 'this isn't your first rodeo! Style it out!'

What? The company lorry driver was looking at her and asking her if she was all right?

Sure. No problems.

Never let them see insecurity.

Time to focus.

She was the boss.

Take control.

Etcetera.

She nodded an affirmative.

The older machinist was regarding her too. She had taken both their ejaculations within the last hour and was hoping her post-coital feelings of protection towards them was going to be reciprocated throughout the day.

They now saw her predicament in all its glory and wandered over, calling their final companion over to see too, their jovial faces and laughing an expected reaction.

The younger sales lad seemed very amused by the unravelled seam and her exposed flesh and seemed happier about it than the two other older men. It had probably been his eager and enthusiastic hands that had caused the problem initially. Smirking, he playfully slapped her ass and then helpfully pushed her car door closed, indicating that they would have to get going.

Time to make good.

She took the slap without comment, fully aware upon the connection of his flesh to hers, that she was displaying some ass with the now poorly fitting skirt. She pulled on the hem to close the gap with her stocking tops and heard the ominous twang of more threads splitting.

Best left alone.

No time for second thoughts, they strode beside her across the tarmac towards the stairwell, her heels clacking rhythmically on the ground.

She held herself upright.

Proud.

Professional.

Such a slut.

Her stockinged legs swished with each step and she felt a tingle of apprehension in her spine at this foray into the unknown. Upon leaving the house earlier, she had been confident that she had power dressed sexily but demurely, everything was hidden but offering a hint of allure to any observer.

Now, she felt on display, the possible visible bottom of her ass cheeks almost assuring everyone that she was open for free use, the gaping vee on her outer thigh showcasing her lingerie, and the missing blouse button now allowing an obvious pendulum effect of her breasts to draw maximum attention to her.

Clasping her handbag into her armpit, she glanced down to make sure that the damaged skirt would not also remove observers speculation as to her choice of pubic cut. That seemed ok, though there was a slightly ominous stain made obvious in the poor carpark strip lighting where some cum had dripped from her face or breasts or directly from a cock held over her. The skirt was past repair or hope, but the only thing to cover her modesty for the next few hours in a conference centre full of strange people - probably mostly men.

It would all be fine. She would mingle and chat to people. Make connections and build business opportunities. She would keep her small team around her and their big bodies would deflect anyone else's full length viewpoint of her.

Confidence.

Small mercies.

The multi-storey carpark was steadily filling around them. Car doors were slamming across the aisles and progressively less distant conversation could be heard as they made their way to the lifts. She had no idea which floor she had parked on, but the older machinist seemed to be tracking the signage.

She tried to get her head into business space.

Business cards.

Check.

Flyers.

Check.

The younger lad had his head bowed once more over his phone, but the company lorry driver seemed attentive to her as she once more looked into her handbag, trying to stay in business mode.

One of the lift doors opened immediately at the machinist's press of the button, and she led the way inside the empty room, turning to face the door with the lorry driver directly now in front of her, the lad slouching over to one side and the machinist in the doorway searching for the buttons to the correct floor.

A hand on her legs.

The lorry driver twisted to smile at her, his cap pulled up so as she could see the pleasure in his eyes. What was he up to?

No one potentially getting in could see as he blocked her body, but his hand felt beneath her skirt and stroked in between her legs. It had been her promise that she would be open for free use by them if they would come to the conference with her. She unfortunately hadn't detailed when or where was appropriate which now seemed an oversight.

Obviously the driver was building a second wind.

Instinctively and submissively she parted her legs, her feet taking up a new stance her shoulder width apart. His fingers stroked into her pussy tracing the contours of her lips and centering on her labia which was obviously peeking out.

Even though all three men had taken her, mauled and groped her and spunked into, and over her in the last few hours, she still felt the need to stay quiet as this man now, almost absent-mindedly, searched out her clit. She folded her arms resolutely across her chest, desperate to stay publicly strong even though her body was about to betray her slutty desires. Biting her lip, she felt herself part lewdly at his touch so that his fingers could find the well of quite considerable moisture without problem.

He was on her clit. He knew where to touch to cause an electric shock to course immediately through her body. She desperately kept herself still in the moment. She just knew that she was going to spend time today talking to potential business clients with a steady stream of her own arousal trickling down her thighs. The lorry driver always had stamina for that sort of game.

She accepted his probing and intrusive fingers without comment, stifling the gasp she so desperately wanted to make, aware that the other two men were both now watching with grins on their faces until the lift doors opened for a couple more unknowing random delegates.

Hearing the soft creak as yet another stitch split down the side of her skirt, she resisted the desire to make a grab for it. It was only a matter of time and she would face the problem of being almost completely exposed if and when it arose. For the moment, she had a job to do.

She closed her eyes as he fingered her closer and closer towards an impromptu orgasm in what was now a very public place, without anyone else's knowledge.

...

It was about midday when she took stock of herself again. Having spent the morning schmoozing and creating contacts she felt that she had had a lot of attention which some of her rival companys hadn't been able to match. Certainly, she had owned her look that morning, standing tall at all times, tossing her hair back and laughing loudly at anything remotely funny to show confidence and that she was comfortable with her slutty appearance. She smiled self deprecatingly if anyone mentioned it and laughed it off, feeling more and more comfortable with it. She had found that keeping her legs slightly open had accentuated the opened vee in her damaged skirt, which had an enjoyable effect on the surrounding men and created even more networking opportunities.

She owned the look that morning. What on Earth had she been nervous of?

Several times that morning, she had glanced down and saw that her nipples were stiff within her blouse, usually between potential clients and whenever she remembered that she was knickerless and effectively open for free use if anyone had dared ask. The material fortuitously remained in place covering her breasts, though offering a lot of cleavage, and at eye height for many.

The older machinist seemed to be happy chatting with everyone. His own cum that morning had clearly calmed and sated him. He pottered around the vicinity handing out leaflets and indicating 'the girl in heels' for a more in depth consultation at any interest.

The driver also seemed to be trying to help with the company needs, encouraging people to surround her for a business pitch before standing behind her as though in support but cupping her ass knowing she couldn't argue the point. His rough fingers stroked her flesh each time, stimulating her inner thighs whilst she was public speaking knowing that it turned her on but with nothing she could do about it. Her wetness seemed to be constantly seeping slowly down towards the stocking tops which soaked it up like a sponge.

Every time the foot traffic went quiet, she felt the driver behind her, taking advantage of the moment, to once again wind her up and stimulate her to the point where she felt on the verge of a public orgasm, before withdrawing and leaving her panting and frustrated as the next wave of potential customers arrived and he wandered away.

Edging her.

Bastard.

She knew what he was doing.

She had asked for this.

She couldn't complain.

To be honest, she was enjoying every minute.

Though trying to maintain a professional demeanor whilst her body was screaming to go over the edge was a new experience, almost fighting the urges to pounce on the next attractive delegate, knock him to the ground and grind her bare, open and wet pussy into their face.

People had fallen into various classes, she had thought with amusement. It was mostly men, though there had been some women too. There were obviously the prudes who refused to look at or approach her. There were a couple of sleaze-bags who seemed all over her without professional intent, until one of her companions took the initiative and got rid of them by quietly moving them on. The younger lad had been quite instrumental in this task and she wondered if he, of the three, felt most protective of her.

A major classification of conference attendees were the married ones. These obviously appreciated her, and she could only imagine what was going to be in their heads later when they returned home to their partners. Women too fell into one of two categories; those that wouldn't look or approach her with a sneering look of distaste on their faces and those that seemed taken with her and perhaps quietly jealous of their own inhibitions. These women always came over and shook her hand and engaged in conversation as though trying to bask in the associated sexiness she oozed.

But the majority of the men, whether married or single who she spoke to that morning were the business type; suited and booted. Courteous and professional, they seemed to be amused and intrigued by her look without appearing rude or creepy and kept a balance in their conversation even if their handshake lasted a little too long each time, staying engaged and appropriate.

Often she was asked about her wardrobe malfunction. Indeed, it became an ice-breaker and she was happy to indicate the broken seam and draw their eyes to her long luscious legs before steering the conversion to the main purpose and building rapport with them. She could tell that they wanted to feast their eyes on her, but stayed professionally looking at her face rather than dwelling on her exposed flesh.

Often she felt intrigued and attracted by their aftershave and demeanor and many times had to fight the thought of turning around and bending over for the bulge that was obviously tenting their trousers in that moment whilst they were aroused by her slutty appeal.

One tall, dark haired man caused such an obvious reaction in her, that the lorry driver noticed and had once again ambled up behind her, this time feeding his fingers surreptitiously in between her ass cheeks to stimulate her pussy whilst she tried desperately to keep the professional pitch going. He had done so several times that morning, she thought, just to keep the skirt hemline slightly beyond her comfort level during a conversation, knowing that she wasn't about to argue the point and to push his own bulging reaction against her for his own amusement and gratification. But this time, it had obviously been all for her. She felt her face flush and struggled to keep her voice level as his fingers discretely found the sweet spot within.

She had very almost cum in that very public moment, looking into the handsome stranger's eyes with so many people around her, with the driver's fingers taking her almost beyond control.

She had been quite certain that everyone around her could hear the wetness in her pussy during any of it's stimulation, but took the repeated indecent public act without drawing attention to it or her emotions, as best as she could. Her face felt warm though and she felt she needed to discretely gasp for breath before the man with the strong jawline eventually turned away. She turned to gaze instead at the driver's amused face, unsure if she wanted him to complete that particular mission or not, regardless of their location.

Making the decision for her though, he had strolled away licking his fingers and leaving her frustrated and right on the cusp of orgasm. Many of the remaining stitches in her skirt seam had been obliterated with that particular act, but she smoothed what was left of her skirt down around her thighs once more to continue the job in hand.

With the amount of stimulation she had endured that morning, she expected to feel worn out, sore between her legs perhaps, but somehow she didn't. If anything, she felt needy instead. She was experiencing heady emotions feeling desired by so many people, and so completely on display, but with zero accountability. She was having fun, and though in professional reality she wouldn't have twisted the skirt in that instance to gape open at the front or back instead of the side, a slutty little piece of her desperately wanted to, displaying her wanton pussy for multiple hands to touch, stroke and intrude on.

She dared not sit down, or bend over that morning, knowing that her wet slit was constantly within an inch or two of complete exposure to potentially hundreds of people and the faint scent of the cum she had taken during their journey along with her own current arousal, was keeping at least half her mind on her own needs.

It was a little after one that she felt the uncontrollable urge that she needed to finish what the lorry driver had started, and looked around for the conveniences. All she needed was two minutes. Two minutes to take herself to the point the driver was constantly suggesting and then denying her. Could she do it here? Would anyone notice?

Of course she could? And did she care if they did see? That group of people were looking away at another stall. That couple over there were deep in conversation together. No one was looking directly at her.

Was there CCTV? Perhaps that black box up on the ceiling had a lens but she was sure it was pointing the other way.