Speaker 1: The collar of my blouse had been chafing since ten am.
Not the fabric silk charmuse cream colored bought at a
consignment shop in the Pearl District that smelled like cedar
and old money. The chafing was their eyes, four pairs
of them, five, counting Larry from Accounting, who'd found an
excuse to linger by the water cooler three times before
noon Morning Jess. That was Dave, the sales lead, his
gaze dropping to my chest the way a man checks
his watch, unconscious, habitual, utterly, unapologetic, Morning Dave. He didn't
look away. They never did. The thirty six d ds
strained against the silk, the outline of my lace balconet
visible if you squint, and they were all squinting all day,
every day. Kevin from It had once dropped a flash
drive just so he could kneel and look up. He'd
actually said whoops, and I'd actually had to bite my
tongue until it throbbed. By two PM, the copier was jammed,
and Mark, Sweet bumbling Mark with the wedding band he
twisted when he got nervous, was standing too close, explaining
the paper feed error while his eyes fixated on the
second button of my blouse, as though it held the
secrets of the universe. You're doing it again, I said,
doing what Mark His face went crimson. He mumbled something
about toner and retreated. I watched him go, watched the
slight slump of his shoulders, and something in me snapped.
It wasn't anger. Anger would have been clean, sharp, a
quick severance. This was something else, A slow building humidity
that had been gathering for the six months since I'd
started here, a pressure system of stolen glances and muffled comments,
and the way Dave would stretch before meetings, arms overhead,
pretending he wasn't angling for a better view. Fuck it,
the thought arrived, fully formed, no preamble. Let's get this
out of our systems. I stood the chair, rolled back,
and bumped the filing cabinet with a hollow metal thump.
Four heads lifted from cubicles like prairie dogs scenting rain. Gentlemen.
My voice came out steadier than I felt. Conference room now,
Dave's eyebrow arched, Kevin's mouth opened, closed, opened again. Mark
looked panicked, and Greg, the quiet one, the new hire
who'd been here three weeks, and had already perfected the
art of the side glance. Greg just folded his hands
on his desk and waited, Is this about the Henderson account?
Dave asked, Just get in the room. They shuffled like
schoolboys called to the principal's office. I followed, closing the
door behind me. The conference rooms smelled of stale coffee
and whiteboard markers, blinds half drawn, late afternoon light slanting
through in dusty gold bars. Sit They sat, four chairs
arranged around the long oak table. I stood at the head,
heart knocking against my ribs, a thin tremor starting in
my thumbs. I've worked here six months, I said, and
in those six months, not one of you has made
eye contact with me for more than three consecutive seconds.
Dave started to protest. I held up a hand. Don't,
just don't. We're going to settle this today, right now.
My fingers found the top button of my blouse. Kevin
made a sound like a man who'd been punched in
the sternum. The silk parted button by button. The room
had gone very quiet, the kind of quiet that follows
a gunshot in a movie, ringing and complete. I could
hear the hvac rattle. I could hear Greg swallow. Today's
your lucky day, I said, letting the blouse slide off
my shoulders. It pooled on the carpet, a cream colored surrender.
I'm going to titty fuck every single one of you.
The cheer that went up was half relief, half disbelief.
Dave actually clapped. Mark looked like he might faint. Kevin
was already loosening his belt and Greg. Greg's eyes had
gone dark and steady, a predator's patience. My bra unhooked
at the front. I took my time. The strap slipped,
the cups fell away, My breasts swung free, heavy and full,
nipples tightening in the air conditioned chill. Someone, Kevin whispered
Jesus Christ, and it was the most reverent thing I'd
ever heard. I dropped to my knees. The industrial carpet
was rough, unforgiving, already biting into my skin through my
pencil skirt. I didn't care. Bring a chair, I said,
you'll go one at a time. Greg moved first, dragging
the leather office chair from the corner and placing it
in front of me. He sat, without being told, confident.
I liked that, Dave grumbled, seniority kid. He got the
chair first, I said, wait your turn. Greg's belt was
quality leather stitched, probably more expensive than his rent. I
unbuckled it while the others watched their breath quickening. His
cock sprang free, already hard, already glistening at the tip,
average length, nice thickness, the kind of cock that looked honest.
I spat into my palm, a thick ropy strand of
saliva that I worked between my hands before wrapping them
around his shaft. No sucking, I said, my voice, dropping low, conversational.
I don't care how much you beg Kevin whimpered behind me.
The lube came from my purse, travel sized, unflavored, bought
three hours ago from the drug store on Fifth, when
this idea had first started knocking around my skull. I
squeezed a cold ribbon onto Greg's cock and stroked it
over him, watching his jaw tighten, watching his fingers grip
the arm rests until the knuckles whitened. I leaned forward,
letting my breasts bracket his shaft. The weight of them,
the soft give of flesh closing around him. Gregg inhaled sharply,
through his nose. I pressed them together with my forearms
and began to move. The wet sound of it filled
the room, slap slip, slap slip, a rhythm like a heartbeat,
like something obscene and holy. At once, I angled my hips,
found the cadence he liked, watched his head fall back
and his throat bob look at me, I said, he did.
His eyes were wet, pupils blown wide, and something flickered
in them that I recognized gratitude maybe, or disbelief or both.
His head nudged up with each stroke, the tip emerging
from my cleavage dark and swollen. I let my tongue
dart out, just a flick, just a tease, flat against
his slit. He bucked, groaned, please no. The word landed
like a coin dropped in a fountain. I slowed my pace,
tormenting him, drawing it out until his thighs started shaking
and his breath caught in ragged bursts. I'm going to
he managed, do it coat me. His release came in
hot pulses across my collar bone, my sternum, the slope
of my left breast, thick white ropes that clung to
my skin. I kept stroking him through it, milking every
shudder until he went soft and twitching, and his palms
uncurled from the arm rest. Next, I said, Dave practically
lunged for the chair. His cock was longer, leaner, uncircumcised.
I started with more spit, this time saliva dripping in
gossamer threads from my fingers, and worked it under his
foreskin until he hissed. His pre com leaked, clear and abundant,
mixing with my spit, slicking the way you've wanted this
since my first interview, I murmured, looking up at him
through my lashes. God, yes. I wedged him between my breasts,
my tits, my glorious heavy tits that had been the
subject of a thousand stolen glances, and fucked him with
them slower this time, deliberate. My cleavage swallowed his length,
and each upward thrust brought his wet tip against my chin.
I dropped a glob of spit onto it, watched it
drip between us, heard the squelch of skin on skin.
The other men were stroking themselves. Now I didn't have
to look. I could hear the frantic rhythm of their fists.
Dave came with a sh shout that probably reached the lobby.
His seed hit my chin, my throat slid down into
the valley between my breasts, where it pooled and dripped.
Mark was easier, Poor Mark. He lasted four strokes before
he was trembling, apologizing, painting my chest with thin, pearly streaks.
I gave his head a teasing lap, quick kittenish, and
he nearly collapsed off the chair. Kevin was last, eager,
sloppy with his pre come. I held his balls in
one hand while I worked him, feeling them draw up tight,
feeling the impending surrender. His seed mingled with the others,
a warm, sticky glaze that covered me from throat to navel.
When they were all spent panting, slumped in their chairs
like men who'd seen the face of some benevolent deity,
I rose, my knees ached. My skin was slick, glazed,
the musk of their collective release sharp in the air.
I looked down at the mess on my chest, the
evidence of four men's desire painted across me, and I
lifted one breast to my mouth and licked. The taste
was salt and bitterness, a cocktail of them all, Greg, Dave, Mark,
Kevin together on my tongue. I cleaned myself with slow,
deliberate strokes of my tongue, gathering their seed, holding eye
contact with each of them in turn. As I swallowed.
The silence was absolute. I found my blouse, slipped it
back on, didn't bother with the braw Best day in
the office ever, I said, hand on the door handle,
a grin spreading slow and wicked across my lips. Now
get back to work, Back to work. I hoped you
enjoyed today's sexy story. If you love this podcast, leave
an Apple review. Share what sexy fantasies you want to hear.
Maybe we can make your dirty dreams come true. See
you soon,