Sucking my future boss off?

Author’s note: Medium has changed the way they calculate the amount they pay us authors for what we post. I’m hardly a J K Rowling but what I did earn kept me in new knickers. Now those earnings have dropped to 10% of what they had been. (To 10%, not by 10%) And we were told it was for our benefit! I don’t like being ripped off, but will for the time being keep posting to see if I can recover those few £s. So please, please if you have enjoyed this little blog, do clap, it helps the little algorithm thingy think I’m human. XXX

Start here if you missed my last blogs: https://medium.com/@TracyTrouble/talking-incestuous-talk-a468b0932519

Lizzie buzzed the window down and he bent to look in. He was tall, over six feet and whilst not wildly handsome, had a certain aura about him which seemed to defy his age.

“Hi,” he said, “you look as though you’ve been enjoying yourselves.”

We were a bit dishevelled! Lizzie’s blouse, now sans buttons, remained open, her bra still above her tits. My ripped knickers had somehow become lodged under the headrest of the front seat, and my skirt was around my waist. Both my stockings and one of Lizzie's had huge ladders. So yes, there were signs we’d been enjoying ourselves!

“Just rehearsing for your show,” I said. “I hope you’re okay watching from there. We’re not inviting you in.” I was quite firm saying that. I wasn’t going to get my phobia stirring, I didn’t want the hassle, and I knew men were off limits for Lizzie, as Chris wasn’t with us.

“Perfectly okay, thank you.” came back the reply.

It was still light, so he’d have no difficulty in seeing everything that went on.

I put a hand under one of Lizzie's tits and squeezed. “Are you a tit man?” I asked, hoping to find out if that’s why I’d stayed in his memory for a decade and a half.

“Not specially,” he replied. “Tits, legs, pussy, face, I think every part is delightful.” No help there. But then his presence took a back seat from our consciousness as we started enjoying each other's bodies. He didn’t disappear totally. The fact we had this man watching brought an extra level to our horniness. We replayed our earlier fun, but the urgency had dissipated so it was more measured. More controlled. More time to saviour each other. My head was between Lizzie’s legs, dutifully drinking the juice she was supplying by the litre. She was on her back on the seat so could watch our voyeur. “Get it out if you want to,” I heard her say. Would he? It was still light, and we were in a public car park albeit reasonably tucked away. Apparently not a problem. “My,” I heard Lizzie sigh. “Impressive.” I wanted to look, but was enjoying myself too much. I could wait until the flow dried up. If it dried up. My friend's body was on high production levels.

Before it did stop, though, Lizzie stopped me. “Come on. My turn.” We shuffled around and without realising it I ended up on my hands and knees on the seat straddling Lizzie, who could now quench her own thirst. This did, though, put my head only inches away from our voyeur's cock. And yes, Lizzie's description was accurate. Impressive indeed. Not so much in length, although that was adequate, but in girth. That rammed up my cunt wouldn’t leave room for much else. That was going to happen though. At least not today.

He was wanking slowly. Very measured and clearly under control, which was also impressive considering he had two women having sex only inches away.

While Lizzie’s tongue was still doing things to me, I decided our voyeur needed something else to look at. My tits. I was overdressed compared to Lizzie anyway, somehow having kept both blouse and bra intact and in situ. I reared back, so I was more upright, although in the confines of the car I had to tilt my head to avoid the roof while I undid my blouse and removed it. I was face-sitting Lizzie, and she was now fucking me after a fashion with her nose. She realised what I was doing and reached up to unclasp my bra for me, pushed the straps off my shoulders and somehow managed to toss it towards our voyeur. Not very effectively, as it lodged over the open window but it only remained there briefly as he picked it up and wrapped it around his cock. An act which I found highly sexy as, judging by his breathing, he did too.

I’d taken my bum off Lizzie’s face and she’s replaced her nose with two fingers. I bounced on them, fucking myself. My tits started their own gyrations. More jelly than jam. Moving independently to the rest of my body. I watched our voyeur's eyes. They followed my movement closely. No matter what he said, my tits clearly had appeal. In some ways, that was a relief. It must be why he remembered me.

I returned Lizzie's favour. Stuck two fingers up her cunt and started frigging her. Our movements were getting harder and faster. I was bouncing. The car was bouncing. Lizzie’s hips were gyrating. We were both coming. Synchronised orgasms. Loud cries from us both. Yes, yes, yes. Deliciously satisfying. I clambered off my friend. We kissed and turned our attention to the man. Impressively, he’d still not come. My bra was still wrapped around his engaged member.

“Need some help?” Lizzie asked helpfully. I guessed giving hand jobs was okay with Chris.

“Need help, no,” he replied. “Want help? Yes, please.” He stepped right up to the car so his cock was inside. Lizzie took hold of it while I massaged his balls. I could exaggerate and say his girth was such that her fingers barely met, but in truth, it wasn’t too much of a stretch. She had a rhythm going. Wanking and licking. Then she bent forward and kissed his helmet and offered it to me to do the same. I did. No phobia objection. No thought of not doing it. She held it there. The reason clear. I didn’t disappoint. Any of us. I closed my mouth around the penis and sucked. Let my tongue flick against his tip. Found I was enjoying it. So much so, Lizzie became impatient and snatched it from me and replaced my mouth with hers. Cheek! I let her have a couple of sucks and reclaimed it. It became a game. Even through the sexual tension, we giggled. Fighting over his prick. He didn’t object, although we were not being gentle. Mind you with that girth no way were we going to break it! At one stage we both had hold of it and were tugging in opposite directions. Fighting like two five-year-olds over the last sweet.

Eventually, he groaned, “Enough girls,” He took it back in hand. Wanked himself. Hard. Harder than we had. Clearly, he enjoyed his penis being mishandled. It was obvious what was coming. We looked at each other, giggled, yes giggled again like a couple of teenagers. Held our heads ready, mouths open, framed in the car window. That did it for him and he erupted. And my, what an eruption. Easily rivalling Charles. Perhaps I should have paid more attention to biology at school and I’d know if sperm creation increases with age. I wouldn’t have thought so, but the two sixty-year-olds I knew seemed to prove otherwise.

He shared the cum between us. Our faces plastered in the warm, sticky substance. When we were sure he’d finished, I let Lizzie clean him up while I lapped up the cum on her cheek. A treat. The taste of cum. One I’d missed. Once my friend could find no more nectar to suck off him, we concentrated on each other. A culmination of a super sexy evening. My libido was saying it was prepared for more, but my mind was saying I should stop there.

He didn’t rush off. He didn’t even put his flaccid cock away, but stood watching us clean each other like two cats. long, slow strokes of our tongues over each other's faces, cheeks, nose, eyebrows. Greedy girls. When it was gone, we wanted more!

We looked at him. He had a contented look! “Awesome. thank you.”

“Our pleasure,” we giggled. He finally tucked it away. “I meant it about the job, young lady. Sorry I remember you, but not your name. Do get in touch. I’m sure we’d enjoy working together. Oh. I don’t mean this. This would not be in your job description!”

He said it with a smile and I think he meant it, but I doubted it would happen anyway.

“I’ll give it some thought,” I said non-committedly. He leaned forward and kissed us both and was gone.

We sorted ourselves out but before I left to drive home, I had to check something.

“When you started this hotwife thing, you said you and Chris had agreed no interaction unless he was around. Will he be okay with this, or do we need to keep it a secret?” I asked.

Lizzie smiled. “No, it’s okay. I should have updated you, but after that dogging evening, he said he was okay with me doing anything as long as you were with me. For some weird reason, he thinks you will be a restraining influence. God knows where he got that idea. Personally, I don’t think I'd go full fuck without him with me, anyway. He gets so turned on by it I wouldn’t want to deprive him of the pleasure, but something like this, well, it just felt right.”

I was relieved. I didn’t want friction creeping into their relationship. They were too important friends for me to let that happen.

When I got home, I was exhausted, but I had to find out about the man. It had been so surreal. Any one aspect of the encounter would have been natural enough, but combining all aspects was more than weird. First his possibly knowing me, but from a decade ago and me with no recollection of him. Secondly, offering me a job while I’m sitting in a pub, legs splayed wide and then thirdly, for god's sake having a dogging episode with us both. Added to which I wondered if I could work for someone who had just wanked himself off and splattered his cum all over my friend and me. It was like a dream; while you are in it, everything makes sense, but then you wake up and the jigsaw just doesn’t fit together.

I opened my laptop and Googled his firm. It had a website which listed the type of work they specialised in, their staff, and the location of their offices.

I started with staff. Sure enough, there he was and as he’d said, and his card indicated, he was the managing partner. It also gave a potted history of his career.

That’s when I realised I did know him, or at least of him. I won’t bore you with the details, but he was a partner in a firm that the one I was working for at the time amalgamated with. I was very junior and whilst I recall the event, I couldn’t remember meeting him. He hadn’t come to work in the new firm but struck out on his own. Quite successfully, by the look of it.

Next, I looked at their speciality. He’d said he thought their type of work would suit me, but I couldn’t quite see why he would say that.

They specialised in advising people in the entertainment industry. While it might be quite fun rubbing shoulders with famous names, (assuming they represented anyone famous, there were no names quoted), I couldn’t see his point.

Finally, I looked to see where they were based. London. Not far from Liverpool Street station. Not high on my list of desirable places to work and getting there would be a drive and possibly two trains.

I was still puzzled, though. Why would a partner of a firm who only briefly had dealings with the firm I worked for fifteen years ago remember a junior member of staff? My tits aren’t that memorable. Are they?

If it hadn’t been for my curiosity as to why he remembered me I doubt I would have thought much more about it but I’ve decided, purely as a matter of curiosity, to follow it up. One never knows, although I have to say the idea of working in London does not appeal. There would need to be ample compensation, and working for a man with a dick with a huge girth was not one I was willing to let influence me.

I’ll keep you posted.

Please, if you have enjoyed this little blog, do clap, it helps the little algorithm thingy think I’m human. XXX