The Office Party

Workplace, Naughty, Quick and dirty,

The office party never got beyond the boring stage. They never do when senior management pretends they are just part of the team like the rest of us wage salary slaves.

There are no share bonuses in the company for us.

We celebrated ten years of international business in Sydney, so some bright spark decided it should be on the tenth floor.

My heels were killing me. I wanted a relaxing spa bath. I needed some quiet personal downtime after completing a deadline review just before six. And here I was clock-watching at seven-thirty, thinking a polite exit would be okay at eight.

I'd call up my recent fuckbuddy about ten when I got my second wind.

I was drifting from group to group, trying not to look obviously bored.

Trying to avoid getting bloated on canapes and tipsy on champagne.

How I ended up alone with two high-flying, share-holding, young senior managers, James and Jason, yeah, nearly interchangeable Armani-suited pricks.

Well, it happened, and yet, so help me — they were talking shop.

I thought Christ boys, at least sport or cars, or flirt with me or even be rude and see how I respond to a crass smutty joke.

We could end up in a storeroom threesome.

No, the two dudes were enthused about a new office layout; teams were in, and hierarchy was out.

Could have fooled me.

I got slightly more interested as James mentioned décor and mood colours.

But my eyes and the corner of my mouth did smirk when Jason called the process "Pimping the Workplace."

My usually controlled at-work dirty mind escaped like a nipple slip.

Oh, I knew pimping a car from TV and the slang idea of making something cooler or better, but the grubby idea of procuring, soliciting, prostitution, a pimp living off the earnings, pimping a workplace; seriously— I imagined myself as a high-class call girl working and servicing these two dudes. My arse nicely splayed across the boardroom table.

My lash flutter gave me away. My tongue moistened at my lips.

James suddenly realised there was a young slut under a well-cut navy-blue dress, and I could tell he didn't give a shit about the look of the workplace now.

His thoughts were focused on my boobs.

Jason caught up, too— ogling my thighs.

What is it about sexual opportunity, the glint in a woman's eye and guys going into instant cock led overdrive?

I hadn't realised how well-located we were to get it off immediately.

The cat was out of the bag or updating it, pimping the expression; my pussy was about to be knickers-free.

I sidled left and backward into the photocopy room, the two guys following like frisky puppies on the shortest leash.

Sex in the photocopy room, well, I'd have called it a porn fantasy myth until it happened to me.

Would there be a hard copy of my arse printed out of the machine?

The sex would tell.

It was speed sex.

God, the door wasn't even closed.

We were in the alcove by the shredding machine.

Quite apt, actually.

They literally shredded my dress, bra and panties off me, like roughly peeling a banana.

Nothing put on their bananas, though, the dirty buggers.

No condoms, but I was too trash randy to care.

Pregnancy precautions — always the girl and her trusty pill.

I was squeezed between the pair, and I loved it.

Cock nuzzling into my body front and back. My tits were getting licked. My neck nibbled. My pussy fingered. My arsehole poked. Tongues caroused my mouth.

Both my hands were full of cock—decent-sized peckers too.

My earlobes were double-licked.

"Uh, uh, uh," as I was reduced to slutty, slush, girly flesh putty under male groping.

Nothing planned. It all just happened.

Cocks look good poking out of well-cut suit pants.

Jason bent me over to suck his rod, and the smutty bugger James eased his dick straight into my pussy from behind as my head went forward sucking cock, and my body went forward too, filled with cock.

Then I was chasing pecker forward and rocking back on cock behind me.

Geez, both bastards were in me deep.

They would have met in the middle of me — if they could.

I was a perfectly balanced conduit for cock. A double fluid channel. My mouth was swamped by a saliva-drenched cock. My pussy juices were giving James' cock the ride of its life.

Oh fuck I felt good, wildly so, as he also fingered my arse.

It was all a blur of hasty action, but I was aware of it all.

I was a double duct of pleasure. My mouth and pussy were making me so happy together.

I just accepted it as stunning as they swapped over positions; my body was like a busy commuter thoroughfare for peckers.

A bustling freeway for my growing orgasm.

My body was cock busier than a transit lounge after endless flight delays.

James jagged his prick into my mouth like it was his private pleasure chute.

Jason, at the same time, gouged his cock like a spear straight into my unexpected arse.

"Ooh, oof, ooh, ooh," I managed without gagging as James repositioned to seek my tonsils.

I still don't know how my rear chamber expanded so wonderfully quickly to accommodate Jason's stiff rod.

I realised later I was entirely slut relaxed.

My arse was a dredged canal of unrefined buggerised ecstasy as Jason creamed it.

My mouth became a trough of salvia and cum, as James emptied himself in my gob and insisted, " Swallow it, baby, yeah, gulp it all down!"

Yum, I did.

I started to grab my clothes off the floor. All the pricks had to do was zip.

Jason said sheepishly, " A memento, a photocopy of your peachy arse!"

" Oh, what the hell," I replied.

James said, "Can I press it twice!" as my tacky bum smeared the glass plate.

I raised three fingers.

Well, it was warm on my butt as the copier flashed.

I left a smudged, sullied, gluey girly film —someone would be pissed off with the quality of their required copy Monday morning.

We three snuck out of the dying office party.

Private revelry at my place, starting in the spa.