Halloween Aftermath

I’m sorry it’s been so long since my last blog. Those who follow me on Twitter will know the reason but for the rest of you, my Mum was very ill and had to be hospitalised for a while and it took ages to find someone to care for her when she returned home so everything took rather a back seat. But hopefully, things are returning to normal. XX

I’d been at my desk for a couple of hours on Tuesday morning when Peter knocked and walked in. (if you don’t know who Peter is start here: https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/halloween-64c0a5e00b03)

I smiled. I’d wondered how long it would be before he appeared and I must admit to feeling slightly disappointed that Monday had come and gone without any sign.

“Have you a moment?” he asked. He presumed I had because before I could answer he had sat down opposite me.

“Plenty,” I replied, “never any pressure in this office.” I swept my arm around indicating the piles of bundles of documents on my floor.

“In that case, I won’t keep you. I just dropped by to ask if you’d care to come to supper one evening. Helen is a superb cook as well as being an incredible shag.” The last word seemed so incongruous coming from Peter. A raised voice and four-letter words were something that didn’t fit his persona. I burst out laughing. “So will I get to sample both?” I asked with a broad grin.

“I think we’d both be disappointed if you didn’t.”

“Do you both cook?” The hidden meaning was hardly hidden. It was Peter’s turn to laugh.

“No, I do shag, but I’m too modest to say whether I’m any good at it. Any particular evening?”

“Not really except if it’s likely to be energetic Friday night would be best.”

“Friday it is then.” He got up to go. “Oh before I go…” He didn’t get any further. I’d got up too and went and stood close, invading his space. “Help yourself. I will tell Helen though.” I said, grinning.

“Haha! Do, but I wasn’t about to ask that although they are sorely tempting. Don’t mix work and pleasure and all that. I’ll save it for Friday.”

Bugger. I’d got quite hot thinking of doing something sexy with him in the office. I’d have to have a word with Helen and see if I could get her to change his mind.

“What I was about to say was, oh damn. You’ve taken it out of my head. Oh, I know. I’d better give you our address.” He went to my desk, grabbed a Post-it Note, scrawled his address on it, and stuck it on my boob!

“Don’t lose it. See you Friday. Say 7.30?”

Life got in the way. My mum became ill, and was hospitalised and I had a long few days caring and worrying about her so that Friday didn’t happen.

When I came out at the end of that black tunnel I was sorely in need of something distracting and we rearranged the supper for last Saturday night.

Given the discussion we’d had there was no ambiguity as to what that night would involve so that at least meant I didn’t need to worry about how to dress. Outlandishly!

I’d bought this outrageous blouse that I’d initially thought of wearing to work but then decided it was far too see-through. Then I thought I could wear a jacket but then decided that was a waste, so I’d wear it socially. After Halloween night I had no compunction about being wicked provided it wasn’t work related. Saturday night wasn’t!

No bra. A short skirt that failed to cover my stocking tops and high heels. Perhaps a bit tarty but it suited my mood. No knickers either.

Peter and Helen lived at the other end of town so walking was out of the question but I had a sneaking feeling there might be a fair bit of wine flowing so I opted for a cab rather than drive.

Dressing as I had produced a small side benefit. I didn’t feel the need to tip the driver! His eyes hardly left his mirror (which was a bit disconcerting) but I made sure he got an eyeful up my skirt as well as feasting his eyes on my tits. It produced the right mood!

Helen opened the door. Shit, I wondered if I’d misunderstood Peter’s invitation. Helen was dressed conservatively. She could have been going to supper with her in-laws, a high-necked dress that was just knee length. She read my expression. “Don’t worry Tracy, just my ready-for-anything dress, one quick unzip and I can step out of it! You look scrumptious. I’ll change the menu, I think we’ll eat you instead.” All said at machine gun speed and followed by a hug and a kiss full on the lips just as she had done at the party. And a hand clamped on a tit. I began to think it wasn’t only Peter that had a fondness for my mammaries.

She led me into the living room. Peter was standing by a drinks stand, already pouring a glass of something with bubbles in it. He came across to greet me, handing me the glass and, looking pointedly at my tits, said, “So glad you could both come,” and accompanied it with a gentle grope. “God you can’t believe how many times I’ve wanted to do that in the office.”
“Enough, Peter,” exclaimed Helen, “the poor girl’s hardly through the door. Let her sink a couple of glasses first before she has to put up with your smarmy compliments.”

It set the tone for the evening. I’d never expected Peter to be quite so amusing and as a couple they were hilarious. We must have sunk a couple of bottles of bubbly before Helen announced the food was ready and led the way to the table.

“Oh, just one thing,” she said with a broad grin, ‘Ancient custom in this household, women always eat topless.” With that, she undid her zip and stepped out of the dress. She was indeed topless. She was wearing a bra, given the size of her tits they needed something, but the supprt they had was from a half-cup bra that lifted them and emphasised her huge, on-display, nipples.

I didn’t hesitate to follow her although given how sheer my blouse was it made little difference to what was on view.

We then sat down to eat. Surreal. I’d sat opposite this man in meetings, my sexual antenna never flickering either in the predator direction or the ‘I could let him fuck me’ direction. He’s always been excessively professional. Now here I was eating something delicious with him and his wife with my boobs on display and his eyes hardly moving from them. With most other men that would have been a warning. With him, I couldn’t wait for the meal to finish. I was jumping the gun. I’d met them at an adult party but I hadn’t seen them being sexy with anyone. I mean fucking. Perhaps they didn’t. Perhaps they got off on just mild groping. I hoped that was not the case.

The meal ended. More drinks were served. As Helen put my glass in front of me she leaned over my shoulder and whispered in my ear as she nestled a tit in her palm. “You showed off at the party and I can’t tell you how much that turned us both on. You are up for some fun aren’t you?”

“Yes please.” I swivelled in my chair and pushed my face between her tits. If I were a betting girl I’d say she was a double G cup. I pushed my hands into her bra and scooped them both out, sucking on a nipple. A nipple that was already hard. Her hand went south, up my skirt. “My, Peter, she’s ready for action, no knickers.”

The information triggered Peter to leave his chair. He came round to mine, swivelled it away from the table, dropped to his knees, pushed my legs apart, and buried his head there. Husband sucking my juices, wife fondling my tits. Heaven.

Somehow I found myself on the floor. My skirt had disappeared. Helen was squatting over my face dripping juices into my mouth. Peter had stripped naked. His cock was a good size, not mega but handy enough. I appeared to have left my phobia at home. This couple could do what they liked. And they liked quite a lot. Peter knelt between my legs, picked them up, and put them over his shoulders. Slipped into me. Easily, my juices were well flowing. The couple linked above me, kissing and Peter started thrusting. In time with his thrusts, Helen lowered herself and dragged her pussy across my face. Stupidly, I thought of Torrvil and Dean and Bolero.

Then Helen stopped. Her glistening lips millimetres from my lips. I raised my head. Kissed them. I heard a moan. Realised it was me. From Peter’s thrusting. Now more urgent. Forceful. Ramming into me. I tried sucking Helen's cunt but couldn’t. My whole body reacting to the cock fucking me. Helen didn’t need my tongue anyway. Not judging by the torrent of juice cascading onto my face. I opened my mouth, swallowed what I could. And came. Loud and violently. Triggering Peter to release his load deep inside my body. Delicious.

He eased himself out. Helen climbed off my face and replaced him. Her mouth clamped over my cunt. Sucked hard. Extracting the semen her husband had just sown. While she did, his lips came to mine. We kissed. Open mouthed. Passionately. No hint of reserve. No concern his wife might not approve. It was a lover's kiss. I’d not experienced anything like it. Not from a man. Not this side of marriage. But at the same time, it was purely sexual. Treating me as a sex object. I talk tosh at times. The two statements can’t be true, but somehow they are.

It fired my libido again. That and what his wife’s tongue was doing inside my vagina. Too soon to expect him to be hard again so my turn to explore his wife.

She’d just about finished cleaning me out so I pulled her towards me and kissed her as her husband had been kissing me. Our tongues dualling, saliva dripping out, mouths so wide. My hands found those huge globes of hers. No. Not globes, melons. Each a double-hander. I did that. Concentrated on one. Held it in both hands. Gripped the nipple between my teeth. Heard her squeal. With delight, I hoped. I sucked on it. A baby at her mother’s breast. God that she’d produce milk for me to drink. How perverted. While I sucked on her teat I felt a new tongue enter me. Peter was now between my legs, lapping at my juices. It didn’t take long and I was coming again. My hand went to her pussy. She needed little help in joining me. Not quite in unison, but close. Squeaks and groans and sighs all round.

My.

We sat and recovered. Peter poured another drink and we started chatting. I asked, “How long have you been doing this?”

“I should think about about eight years We started soon after our youngest daughter left for university. Suddenly we could have fun in the bedroom without worrying about the noise levels and it progressed from fun for just the two of us to mixed groups”

“Do you do anything kinky?” I asked hopefully.

Peter laughed. “MFF trios and a bit of lesbian sex not kinky in your book them Miss Tracy? You are a surprise. What had you in mind?”

I laughed in return. “I suppose one gets blase. Yes, it is kinky, but I was thinking, BDSM, watersports, that sort of thing.”

Again Peter replied. “No, sorry we’re very boring! I suppose we do a bit of bondage, I might tie Helen up and sometimes it happens in groups. Nothing serious though. As for watersports, no. We tried it years ago and neither of us took to it, so I’m afraid we are very vanilla.”

It was disappointing that they weren’t into piss games, but I wasn’t going to cross them off my social calendar because of it. I ventured on.

“Did Peter tell you I came on to him in the office?”

Now it was Helen's turn to laugh. “Yes, he did. Naughty young lady.”

“I know, just don’t know my place. But I’m desperate to do something naughty in the conference room. That table is crying out for me to be spread over it.”
“Young lady, I can’t tell you how many times while sat around it at those mind-numbingly boring management meetings my mind has wandered, imagining you and your tits on display there.”

“Well, why don’t we?”

“No, sorry, tempting though it is I really to have a strict rule about the office.”

“That’s a shame. I couldn’t tempt you to help, Helen?”

“Darling, I would like a shot but if discovered the ramifications would fall on Peter.”

I continued trying to convince either of them but to no avail.

And that was it. A sexy evening with a work colleague. It was going to be interesting sitting opposite him at future meetings!