The Long Hot Weekend Pt 02

Friday

***

I woke to a pounding headache and a raging erection. Groaning, I dragged myself out of bed and back into the shower, scrubbing the hot, feverish dreams away. I got out to check my phone and learned- accompanied by a sudden shot of fear-laced adrenalin- that I'd somehow slept through my alarm and I was late for work.

Sorry, late for work

again

. I shoved on my clothes and rushed back into the bathroom to brush my teeth before stopping and staring. I was pale, my hair a tousled mess that stuck out at odd angles. My eyes were dark and shadowy. The fever-haze was still there, shimmering at the edges of my vision. I felt drunk, my mind slow, my vision disconnected as though I was seeing the world through a camera feed. I stared at my reflection and for a heartbeat I saw something hovering over my shoulder; a shimmer like a heat-haze that wavered and flickered-

I blinked it was gone. I finished brushing my teeth and rushed out the door-

And nearly collided with Ms. Kumar. She backed away, dark almond eyes narrowed. "Watch it!"

"Sorry."

"You nearly hit me!" Her lips curled and twisted like two dying worms as she brushed down her suit.

"Sorry."

"You look sick." She peered at me. "Are you sick?"

"I'm fine," I said, feeling not fine at all, "Just a little heat stroke from yesterday."

"Hmph." She paused. "If you're sick, don't pass it on."

"I'm not sick."

"You look sick," she repeated, clearly feeling that her views on the matter overruled my own. "Please stay away from us. My daughter is very busy in her studies and can't afford to get sick." She turned and walked away down the corridor towards the lift. As she did, I noticed the way her ass- round, big and surprisingly pert for a woman her age- shifted underneath her black skirt, just the slightest bit of wobble visible underneath the material. The shimmer around the edges of my vision swelled-

Ms. Kumar stopped short. She turned and blinked, mouth opening and closing. I pretended to have a sudden and overriding interest in my flat door until she entered the elevator. Then I ran for the stairs.

I braved the Tube, got out at Bank, took a moment to hit Pret and wolf down a sausage roll before I arrived at the forbidding tower of gleaming glass that I called my workplace.

Alright then. It was Friday morning. All I had to do was get in, manage my workload and get out. One workday- eight hours, including a half-hour lunch that every single one of my ridiculously over-competent work colleagues ignored- and then I was free, barring any semi-regular work texts over the weekend. I could do this.

***

From: GTennyson@corporatehell.co.uk

To: SPliskin@corporatehell.co.uk

Subject: Please come into my office right now.

I stared at the email and felt the sinking sensation in my stomach turn into a hollow, lightless abyss.

There are all sorts of living hells. There's the hell of a disintegrating relationship, where you burn yourself out trying to salvage a pairing that died months ago. There's the hell of being alone at school, tearing out chunks of yourself in a desperate, fruitless attempt to fit in. There's the hell of an older brother with a cruel streak and no parental oversight-

-Look, what I'm saying is while I don't pretend to be able to win the hard life Olympics any time soon, you shouldn't have had to go into work, like I did, with the same sort of dread you'd feel heading out to receive a beating.

The job wasn't the problem. It was a bank job, it was a fast-track-to-riches job, it was the sort of job that people killed for. The problem, as always, was me.

I sighed, rose from my desk and looked around me. Surrounding me were dozens of men and women, each one of them the sort who had watched the

Wolf of Wall Street

when they were younger and saw their own prophesized futures. I walked past cubicles like a lamb tip-toeing through a wolf-pack.

Ms. Tennyson's office was small but she- a young black woman- had one in a workplace full of monstrously arrogant self-described male alphas, which spoke volumes about her fearsomeness. She scowled at me as I entered the room. "Shut the door."

I sat down and did my best not to cower. She glowered at me.

The weird thing was, as worried as I was, I found my mind wandering. Part of it was the lingering, not-quite-real effects of the haze that still clung to the edges of my consciousness. It blunted the fear, giving it a strange, dreamlike quality; it was a nightmare that I knew was a nightmare.

She spoke in that low, soft voice of hers. "I was hoping that we wouldn't have to have another talk."

"I know," I said. It was so

hard

to concentrate on her words. Her office was stuffy- no, stifling. Was every air conditioner in the city broken? I shifted, aware that I was sweating under my shirt.

"I could talk to you about your lateness. About your missed quotas- again." Her eyes were calm, her voice even but there was no mistaking the iron in her tone. "About the way that you're not meshing with the team."

"I know." She waited and I wished, I really, really wished, that I had more to say; some promise to do better that I hadn't already made or plan to improve that I hadn't already pitched. An excuse even, about why I was so bad at this job.

"We took you on based on your brother's recommendation." I actually

did

cringe at the mention at Daniel. "But so far I feel that you've failed to deliver on the promises that you made-" She saw my expression and her frown deepened. "Listen, Sam. I don't want you to think that I'm being overly cruel. But we have to be realistic..."

I said something agreeable and apologetic while the heat pinned me to my chair. Her words became muted and distant against the roar of distant flames. I wanted to be sorry, I

was

sorry, but the heat haze from yesterday was slowly but surely filling the office, wafting in from the outer edges of my vision until it highlighted her body like a halo.

And it was a nice body. A

hot

body. Her skin was dark and smooth and clear. Her hair was black and curly, kept close against her skull with a fearsome crown of pins and combs. Her stiff, no-nonsense blouse and skirt combination did its best to hide her voluptuous body and failed spectacularly.

She was talking about

drive

and

ambition

and

last chances

and I tried to pay attention but it was all fading into the shimmer. As she spoke her chest would jiggle just a fraction, and the hypnotic movement forced my eyes to return time and time again to those great mounds that sat proudly on her chest. The haze seemed to pulse and swell, curling around her until it twisted into another shape that pressed up against her, almost like a-

"Sam."

I blinked. I- had I been drooling? Had I actually been

drooling

in front of my boss? "Um..."

"You're distracted," she murmured. Her whole body had gone very still, those dark eyes of hers boring into my own. Behind them I could sense hints of some mysterious calculation being carried out.

"No- I'm paying attention," I lied.

"You were," she said, intoning each word like an incantation, "staring at my tits."

"I..."

Her eyes were zeroed in at my crotch, where a clear and obvious tent had been pitched. Some distant part of me gibbered in terror but the fever-haze crowded it out. "You were staring at my tits," she said breathlessly. She paused and something flickered like a leaping flame around her; colourless, smokeless fire, as hot as the sun, as silent as a whisper, before she licked her lips. "You're staring at my big titties." Her eyes darted to the closed door and then back to me. "Would you like to see?" She swallowed again, her lips twisting into a wolf-like grin. "Would seeing my big, fat titties make you pay attention to work?"

I nodded dumbly, the heat spreading like wildfire from my crotch to claim my brain. Dimly some part of me whispered about girlfriends and workplace lawsuits; but it was drowned in the roar of the flames in my head as my boss slowly undid the buttons of her crisp, pale, expensive blouse, revealing a mass of plump dark flesh encased in an industrial-strength bra. I moaned and the fires inside me roared, blazed so bright that the world seemed to go dim-

-When I came to Tennyson was kneeling in front of me. There was no fury in her eyes, no commanding presence, no stern disappointment, just the hunger of a woman in heat. Her chest bobbed in front of me and my hands moved of their own volition to pull down her bra. Her nipples were big and fat like her tits. I sunk my fingers into her two glorious mounds of flesh. She twitched like she'd been shocked and then her eyes closed in pleasure. Her fingers unzipped my pants, allowing my cock to spring free. When her lips engulfed the head it was like the quenching of a terrific blaze.

I lay there in my chair while my boss swallowed my cock in great, urgent gulps, as my erection blazed so hot that I was shocked that her lips didn't burn. Her mouth swallowed me again and again, sending shooting flares of pleasure up and down my spine. Fast and desperate but not fast enough, and my body suddenly lurched forward, hands grasping her head. I pushed my terrifying boss's head down until I felt her lips kiss the base of my groin, until she made a gagging, choking noise; I took my hands away but she just forced her head back, gargling my length as tears sprang up in her eyes. She began to swallow my length from tip to base, faster, faster, faster-

I felt my balls churn, twin suns beneath my straining cock. My orgasm was coming, the fire swelling in preparation for the final supernova. I opened my mouth to shout a warning but before I could speak light burst inside my skull as I poured white flame through my cock and into Tennyson's convulsing throat. I pressed her head against my hips and she was thrashing, her arms flailing, her hips humping the air beneath me. I poured and poured a sun's worth of fire into her and then she was struggling, slapping my hips and I realised I was still holding her against me.

I let her go. She collapsed into the ground, her legs twitching, cum spluttering out of her mouth. She stared up at me with wide eyes, stared at my erection-

An erection that had not wilted in the slightest. The heat had turned from a mad flame to a roaring, sullen simmer ready to be stoked back to life with the slightest breeze. The haze still clung to us both, wrapping us up in its shimmering cloak, and my hunger- sated mere moments ago- rose again. I staggered to my feet and stared down at her.

She looked... she looked wild. Mascara running down her cheeks, drool and cum dribbling from her chin; a complete transformation from the cold and clinical and stern woman that held the office in her sway. Her tits were still out, rising and falling with hypnotic shudders to her great, gasping breaths. Her nylon-clad legs were askew, lifting up her business skirt, revealing underwear, silken and soaked.

I staggered through the haze, the stink of hot feminine desire strong in the oven-air of the office. I reached down with clumsy hands and ripped, tearing nylon and satin. She gave a short, breathless scream as her pink pussy- framed by swollen, dark lips- were exposed, begging- demanding- to be filled.

I didn't ask, didn't beg, didn't look at her for permission; I just knelt, waves of lust and heat radiating from me, and plunged inside. She was wet and ready and hot but I was hotter, searing, a hollow shell full of blazing fire. I thrust and she bit hard against her wrist to stop herself from screaming. She threw her head back as I fucked her into the carpet, as the air twisted and shimmered in front of us, forming writhing shapes above her naked body and for a second I glimpsed swaying hips, lithesome limbs, supple curves.

I cannot say how long I fucked her on the floor of her office- long enough for my body to become drenched in sweat, for her to tremble and shudder, for her to scream orgasm after orgasm into her hand, until at last the flames inside me poured out of me afresh, filling her cunt with white-hot cum. Her eyes went wide once more and she convulsed so badly I was afraid she was dying, but suddenly she went still and slack.

I pulled out of her staggered up on legs made of jelly. Her pussy was red, pale seed already slipping out onto the carpet. She lay there, her eyes fluttering, her tits wobbling with hard exhalations, her legs trembling with the aftershocks of her last orgasm.

I knelt. "Are you alright?"

"Mmph." She stirred.

"Do you need me to get help?"

"Mph." She slowly shook her head. "Nnn."

"I could-"

"Go." Her words were slurred. I pulled up my pants and walked over to the door. She was rising to her feet, grimacing as she did.

I fled, doing my best to open and close the door as discretely as I could. I looked around at the gathering of bright young predators in the cubicles around me, noticing that some of them were eyeing her office with open shock.

I fled.

***

It was, by some strange anti-miracle, even hotter than yesterday. The air had turned thin and there was a scorched scent that seemed to be everywhere at once. I walked out, breathing in the dried-out air, and contemplated my next move. There was a pub nearby- one of those old London monsters that required you to take out a mortgage for a pint and a burger- and I staggered into it. I ordered a pale ale and sat back, my head spinning.

I'd just-

Okay, I'd fucked my boss. I'd fucked my boss like a madman, but more importantly...

I had cheated.

I had cheated on Janice. On my beautiful, blonde, sweet girlfriend.

I'd never thought of myself as a cheater. Daniel was, of course- my brother was the sort of guy who took pride in juggling girlfriends and one-night stands, who liked to brag about his unfaithfulness like it was a mark of his masculinity. But me? I'd always promised myself- committed myself- to never being the sort of guy who'd betray anyone, least of all the love of my life.

And yet.

And yet I'd rutted my boss into her office carpet in what could only be called an erotic fever dream. I'd made love- no, I'd fucked her, fucked her face, fucked her tight pussy like I was a madman...

Like the pervert I was.

Was I fired? I was probably fired. I mean,

more

fired than I was when I entered her office. I... I... I had to be in trouble, at the very least. People didn't spontaneously fuck their bosses and just- get away with it, right?

Right?

What the hell was I going to tell Janice? Scratch that, what would I tell Daniel when he found out that I'd finally fucked up the job he'd worked so hard to get for me?

I... I would figure all that out later. I'd tell Janice that I'd left the company for other reasons. I'd tell her that it wasn't working out. She'd be upset- she'd be furious- but it was better than letting her know that I'd screwed my boss.

Which begged the question-

why

had I screwed my boss?

I closed my eyes and remembered the weird, dreamlike feel of the situation, remembered the overwhelming feeling of lust; hot and pure like a flame, filling my head, my body, my cock like a delirious holocaust. It had been overwhelming- all consuming. It had been-

Wonderful.

It had felt like one of my perverted fantasies come to life. Only it wasn't a fantasy- it was an awful mistake that might cost me my job and fiancé both in one fell swoop.

I closed my eyes and drank my beer. I'd sort this out somehow. What had happened had been a one-off act of temporary insanity, probably because of some strange lingering effects from last night's heat-stroke. I'd just- deal with it, and then everything would be fine. As for Tennyson- she'd was probably just as embarrassed about what had happened as I was, right? I bet this entire thing would be swept under the carpet. Maybe this wasn't the end.

Just so long as it didn't happen again.

I drank my beer, paid up and checked my messages. Nothing. On a whim I sent a text to Janice, just a little something to let her know that I was thinking of her. She didn't respond but the action soothed me. I left and reached my home by two, ready to soothe away my worries with some gaming.

***

By eight I was ablaze.

I lay naked on my couch, my dick a swollen, agonised pillar, while I panted like a dog left out in the summer sun. My head swam in a sea of delirious lust. I was horny- hornier than my first time with Janice, hornier than my first time with anyone, hornier than when I had first glimpsed Max changing through her bedroom window. The television, the kitchen, the room around me had dissolved into a mad haze of heat as sweat poured off my body. My hands worked my cock with blinding speed and yet the friction from my hands was dulled and faint, as thought I was jacking off through ten layers of cloth. I writhed on the couch, staining it with sweat while dozens of phantom girls appeared to loom, wraith-like, from the haze around me. My computer lay nearby, tabs opened to a dozen porn sites; all worthless, all taunting me with what I needed.

I needed to cum.

I needed to cum.

And to cum, I needed a girl.

I knew it somehow, knew it deep in my sun-scorched bones; this torment would only end with me spilling my seed deep into a girl's eager, wet pussy. This wasn't normal, was it? This couldn't be natural. I was sick or something. Not well. These were special circumstances-

I picked up the phone. I'd call Janice. I'd call her and then I'd hear her voice and that would give me the strength to resist this... this temptation. I dialled up and put the phone to my ear. Waited for what felt like ten minutes and then-

"Sam?"

"Hey there," I managed to choke out. "Um, how are you? How is the conference?"

"Good," she said. "Hey, what do you want?"

"I..." I thought about explaining the situation to her before my common sense rose up and strangled the idea like a stern-faced soldier. "I just wanted to hear your voice."

"Fine. Look, I'm busy, okay? I'll call you later."

"Wait-" She'd already gone. I sat back and stared at the ceiling, my cock an angry red rod that seemed to stare, one eyed, at me in accusation.

You know I'm in agony. You can feel it too. You can bring an end to our pain.

"She's busy," I said. "Just because she'd a little distracted, it doesn't give me the right to do anything wrong." But my words were swallowed up in the heat-haze that slithered against my burning skin. All of a sudden my living room- my big, open space living room, the AC on full-blast- was as small and as hot as coffin in a crematorium. I threw on my clothes, gingerly easing my underwear over my angry, throbbing cock, and grabbed my phone. I'd go and get something to eat.

That was all.

***

Food turned out to be an Indian place a little distance from where I lived. I sat and ordered something spicy and indulgent along with a pitcher of cold water. The waitress was cute, an olive-skinned twenty-something with a bubble-butt wrapped up in tight denim jeans-

I coughed and looked away, breathing in the oven-air. The waitress was turning to stare at me, half uncertain, and I focused on my meal lest I be accused of being a creep. I shovelled bites of curry into my mouth, trying to ignore my swollen balls, trying not to think about the way my cock was burning a hole through my jeans. I felt like I hadn't come in a year. I felt like the fire inside was twisting, writhing, about to burst out of me and engulf everything around me in flames.

I looked around me. There was the waitress- who kept on glancing in my direction- there was an old married couple across from me, both of them sedately eating away; there was a family of three, a kid, a man and a woman in a sweater, her breasts two modest bumps underneath her sweater-