We'd both been working at an event down on the quayside. North Shields quayside that is. Not as fashionable as Newcastle's quayside, and with pubs much less likely to attract the smart young things. We'd been marketing some flats in a block that was once a seaman's hotel known as the Jungle. Why anybody would want to live there I'll never know, but since we sold all the flats I maybe shouldn't enquire too much. Just bank the commission and try not to be around when the local residents learn what a foghorn is, or how much noise the early morning ferry makes when it arrives.
Anyway, Kate and myself had done the business and got all the signatures we needed. Deposits too. So we decided to have a late night picnic to celebrate. Stop off at a fish shop on the way, and sit in the carpark overlooking Blyth Beach and eat our supper. Yes, I know, it's hardly champagne and caviar, but the days of big commissions and high bonuses vanished once the big corporations came into the estate agency game. Now we're all just trying to grind out a profit.
I like working with Kate. She lives in Blyth, and doesn't moan about doing overtime or being asked to do out of hours viewings. Her husband is happy doing the childcare bits while she's out at work; he does permanent day shifts making trusses. Roof trusses that is; the timber is imported via the port and then turned into trusses in a high tech factory.
Kate and I get on well. We discussed starting a regular affair 18 months ago, after a farewell kiss at the Christmas party turned into a passionate fumble, a blow job and my frigging her to orgasm as an alternative to unprotected sex.
We discussed it, but didn't do it. Kate simply didn't need that much hassle when sex didn't play such a large part in her life. And oddly, we became closer as a result of those discussions. I appreciated much more the way she approached decisions, meticulous and careful, weighing everything in the balance. I think she enjoyed her role as my office wife, doing everything she could to make my life easier, caring and supportive. If people in the office joked about how close we were they kept it light hearted; each time I found a new girlfriend they teased Kate about my cheating on her.
It doesn't sound the most romantic or sexy of events, sitting by the beach in the car eating fish and chips, but I'll gladly confess to feeling closer to her that night than at any time since our christmas party fumble. I'm a man; we start with a genetic disadvantage when it comes to feeling close to women without sex being involved. So yes. I felt a little horny as well. I think we were both aware the evening had the potential to take us to places where we shouldn't go, but that had happened in the office as well and we'd managed.
Not that maintaining that facade got any easier when a car pulled into the car park just after ten o clock, closely followed by two more cars. Both of us commented on it being surprising that so many cars should turn up together, but didn't draw any conclusions.
Not until the interior light went on anyway. Then it became pretty apparent that the woman in the cavalier had, at the least, bare shoulders and didn't mind being see by the men in the other two cars. Or us for that matter. Except that the two men in the cars that had followed them in didn't stay in their cars for long. We couldn't see that much of what was going on but you didn't need binoculars to see that both men were wanking. You didn't need much imagination to work out what was happening when one of them moved to stand at the passenger window either.
I was surprised when Kate muttered under her breath.
Not the kind of language I'd expect from her.
Not the kind of reaction either; she spat the words out with real force, more force than I'd ever heard her use. It was the kind of moment when you decide to make light of what's being said, to try and test how strong the emotions are.
"Jealous or critical Kate?" She laughed; laughed out loud.
"Jealous of course. Who wouldn't be? She's got three men if she wants them." I was watching Kate's face, trying to work out what she was thinking. So when she blurted out 'Oh shit' I was taken aback. I didn't know what she'd seen. So I looked.
The woman was out of the car. The sequence of movements was choreographed, bending towards the men's groins in turn, then turning to bend over the wing of the car. Kate's hand fell onto my thigh.
"She wants somebody to be watching. She wants us to be here." I moved her hand further up my thigh towards my groin, where my hardon was trying to tunnel its way out of my pants.
"You sound like you understand Kate..." She squeezed and moulded my erection with her hand.
"It wasn't the sex I didn't want, it was the complications." She wasn't looking at me as she spoke, she was watching the blonde, stretched over the car wing, her arms out in front of her as if she were surrendering. I put my hand on her thigh and muttered
"I would have settled for that..." She squeezed tighter then groaned as if she had made a decision.
"Tell me what she does..." And with that my wishes came true. She unzipped me, deftly got my underwear out of the way, cupped my balls in one hand then, holding my erection with the other hand, went down on me.
And as she manipulated me with her mouth, squeezing the end of my cock with her lips, licking me with her tongue, taking me deep into her mouth and using suction to caress my shaft with the inside of her cheeks, I tried to explain what I could see of what the blonde was doing. It was hard to explain that it was about what she was doing, but also about what she was willing to have done to her. Did she volunteer to bend over in a crucifix position, one man in her mouth, one behind her, an erection in each hand? There were things that clearly were her choice, and her act. When she took the first man out of her mouth, knelt down and made him come on her tits it was clearly her choice. As if word had spread there was movement all around the car park, with men arriving or jockeying for position, to have their turn to come on her.
I kept trying to explain all this to Kate while trying to catch my breath and not beg her to let me fuck her. She didn't even want me to unbutton her blouse. Not to begin with anyway. Once I'd pointed out that there was a man standing by the window watching her that changed. Her blouse came off and was thrown into the footwell, and was followed by her bra. Her skirt came up around her waist as well. I was trying to work out where I wanted my hands first; on her breasts or her backside, guiding her head or stroking the pale white skin of her back. And all the time I was trying to tell her about how the blonde woman had vanished into a circle of men, five or six of them, all clearly masturbating. Then I mentioned how the man at the window, middle aged, wearing smart dress trousers and a waxed cotton jacket had his trousers open, stroking himself as he watched her suck me. That made her pause for a moment. I teased her about it
"Want to play with him Kate?" She put her hand on my cock and sat upright. Over to me. So I lowered the electric window on her side and waited to see what happened.
What happened was dream like, three minutes of excitement that made me feel sick to my core, like I'd drunk too much Coke or eaten too many sweets too quickly. We managed to link our arms round each other, so she could carry on playing with me while I wriggled my hand into her high legged, not quite a thong pants and found the moist groove that sheltered her clit.
As for the man at the window, all I could see was Kate's hand on his cock, her first tentative licks at the end, then two or three full blooded sucks before he came, his come squirting onto her shoulder and left breast. I came in her mouth about thirty seconds later, gasping and clutching at her head.
It was as if a spell had been broken. Not a sad moment, but we did find each other staring,, shocked by what we'd done. It was left to Kate to speak for both of us.
"Christ knows what happens now..."