She was cumming, no doubt about it. I said nothing while she moaned and squealed over the phone. I sat there listening to her sexy voice while I rubbed my rock-hard cock. Soon she was back on the line.
"Oh David, I just made myself cum - again. That's the third time this morning!"
"Good," I said.
Then I heard the door of my office open. It was Robert.
"Um, Robert's just walked in. We can talk about this later," I said, trying to make it sound like a business call – although why carry on the pretense I wasn't quite sure.
"OK sweety," she said as she hung up.
"Morning Robert," I said.
"Morning," he grunted.
"Did you have a nice night," I said, before immediately wondering whether or not I should have said anything that even remotely referred to the events of the previous evening.
"Hmm," he said, stiffening, the lines on his forehead tightening in that familiar way I had seen before when the guy is about to blow his stack. Yep, should have kept my mouth shut. "Yes, I did have a pleasant evening, if you're asking. But might I remind you that you are here to work, not to discuss anything that might happen after hours. You are here to WORK! That is all. Is that fucking clear?"
"Yes, boss," I said, cowering slightly under his sheer thunderous fury. Man, he could be scary!
"Good. Now, I want to see where you're up to with the Errington job."
I pulled up the drawings on my screen. He looked over my shoulder, studying it. I braced myself for the inevitable critical assault.
"Hmm," he said. "Not bad. Not bad at all. Keep going with that."
And then he was gone. 'Not bad'. That was closest thing to praising my work that he had ever come. Hmm, I thought to myself, he really must have had a good night after I'd left...
I sat there for a while, now unable to concentrate on my work at all. This situation was getting weirder all the time. That little exchange with Robert showed me pretty clearly that there was a clear line of demarcation between what happened here at work and what happened between himself, his wife and myself after hours. I found that hard to really understand, how he could totally switch from pathetic cuckolded husband to tyrannical boss from one night to the next day, but I figured it at least made things less complicated. I at least knew how to act when I was at work. And I still hadn't lost my job.
But what about Elizabeth? She seemed in her own way as much of a head case as he was. Here she was, getting off on the idea of me being her personal employed fuck toy, and then orgasming over the phone as I called her a slut and that she should be sucking my cock – an 'intimacy', she had said, quite firmly from my memory, that she reserved for her husband alone. What the fuck is going on in her head?
I was even surprised at myself, at what I had said over the phone. That little phone chat was so sexy, but how did I even know that that kind of slut talk was going to get her off? I didn't, but the conversation just seemed to take on a life all its own. What was I thinking telling her over the phone that she should be sucking my cock, when she'd already told me that she wouldn't do that, and then telling her that I'd post pictures of her on the internet? That's probably put the kybosh on her letting me take any pictures of her now – she'd be worried that I'd show the world. But then wasn't she kind of in control of me? I mean, if I wanted to keep my job, I had to do and act as I was told. I was being quite aggressive with her over the phone – maybe I felt a little put out that she'd sent me home so dismissively, like a tradesmen who had completed a task, after I had come on her face, in fact. It did offend me just a little bit, I had to admit. But then over the phone she was totally getting off on the whole idea of letting others see a picture of her sucking my dick. She had gotten totally off on that. And I had made a girl cum just by talking to her over the phone. That was a first for me.
Well, I thought, whatever. There didn't seem much point in thinking too deeply about all of this, because there were too many things that just didn't add up, didn't make sense. But it did seem as though I was now somehow on a good thing, perhaps also locked into a very weird situation, but one in which I was getting to fuck the sexiest girl I had ever met. And 'it's not over yet', she had said. So we would be meeting again – but what exactly did 'not over yet' mean? Saying something like that seemed to suggest a logical conclusion to this situation, but logic was something that I could hardly imagine could be applied here. None of this was normal or logical. What did she mean?
No, there was no point in continuing to mull all this over. There were no answers that I could see. All I could do was go along and enjoy the ride, and so far the ride had been exhilarating.
Nothing much happened over the next week. I was almost disappointed that I hadn't received another 'dinner' invite.
No matter, I had a date for the weekend with Sarah. She and I had been seeing each other on and off for a few months, but it was a very casual arrangement. "Fuck buddies" was the term she used. She'd just come out of a fairly nasty relationship, but, as she put it to me, she still had needs every now and then. She certainly does, I mused to myself as I thought of the last time we'd been together – the girl has a bit of a thing for sex in public, and we had a wonderful time together in a bus stop shelter late one night. As for me, it suited me fine. I wasn't interested in anything serious after my last relationship, and in any case I'd decided not to bother too much with women while I tried to get my career back on track. Neither of us expected anything to develop out of it; it was just convenient and welcome distraction for both of us at the time. Of course, over the past week I hadn't had much need to think about Sarah, but when she called, and I had nothing else planned, I thought, why not? Why not indeed.
Friday night we hooked up at the local for drinks and a pub meal. After that it would be back to my place or her place, or some other place out in the open somewhere if it took her fancy.
"Hi David," she said as she arrived in the bar, giving me a peck on the cheek. "How's tricks."
"Oh yeah," I said. "Not bad. My boss is still an arsehole, although the other day I met his wife and she's hot. Can't imagine what she sees in him." Probably shouldn't have even mentioned Elizabeth, I suddenly thought to myself, but I certainly wasn't going to take the conversation much further than that.
"Yeah, it's hard to see how some women can go with rich arseholes. My boss is the same, a real prick, but his wife is really nice. Guess it's the old trophy wife syndrome."
"Yeah," I said.
We had our drinks and ate our burgers. I used to really look forward to these little interludes with Sarah, but sitting there I couldn't help but think how plain she was – in both looks and conversation. I felt a little guilty even to be thinking it, but she was actually a bit boring. As she told me about her week I found myself zoning out, thinking instead about Elizabeth and what she was doing this Friday night, a full week after that first 'dinner' with her and Robert.
"You look a little distracted," Sarah said.
"Yeah, sorry, just a bit preoccupied with work."
"Hmm. Well, hopefully we'll be able to take your mind off work a little later, huh?"
"Yeah," I chuckled.
"David, I'm feeling horny. Let's get out of here."
I wasn't feeling particularly horny at that moment, but I knew that would change. As we left, the experience of fucking Elizabeth while her husband watched went flashing through my mind. The fact that another person was watching – never mind the fact of who that person was – I had actually found incredibly exciting. As a raw visceral experience, the idea of being watched fucking seemed such a fundamental turn on. I had never thought of myself as an exhibitionist, but...
"Hey Sarah," said as we strolled out of the bar together. "Ever had sex with people watching you? You know, not like the other night, where we were doing it at the bus stop and it was exciting because we knew we might get caught, but I mean with people watching because they want to watch. People watching you having sex and getting off on it – not being disgusted or offended or wanting to call the police."
"No, but it sounds fucking horny. I like that idea."
"Don't ask me why, but I'd really like to do that - tonight. What about if we catch a taxi, and we can fuck in the back while the driver drives around. You know, like the driver would love it – watching people fuck in the back of his car – I mean, how fucking boring must it be driving round in a cab all night?"
