Office Affair

byhobrigef©

Emma obviously wants to treat this -- Ken slobbering at her feet like he's her little pet dog -- as perfectly normal and I follow suit, I just stand there and chat with her about the job. I get a fright when I suddenly think about what might happen if somebody -- Phil? - comes barging in and sees this. Fuck, that could be trouble. Probably get reported back to Vickers. Might end up with me and Em in hot water. Ah but no, it's okay. The door's locked and I have the only key. Yeah, course. So we're cool.

Maybe just me thinking about all this causes the knock on the door. Yes, it's Phil.

"Mark? Can I pop in?" he's semi-shouting. Oh what a pain.

"I'll open up in a second," I call. "Better get up, Kenny boy, we have a visitor," I say. Ken stops licking Emma's shoe and starts to lever up from the floor. God he's slow. I give him a kick up the arse. "C'mon, move it, you fat fuck!"

Em lets out a little giggle. "Ouch!" she mimes.

Once Ken is upright and stable I let Phil in. "Hiya," I say.

"Yeah, so just wanted to catch you before you left today," says Phil. "Everything okay?"

"Yep, all good," I grin. "We're well into it."

"Okay, excellent. Well you know where I am, right?"

"Sure, Phil. Thanks. Any problems and I'll let you know." I'd like for him to go.

He's kind of dwelling around and I notice he seems to be looking at something which isn't me. I flick my eyes to check what it is -- it's Emma. She's gone and perched up on the edge of her desk and this pencil skirt she's wearing has slid a fair way up her thighs. She's got her legs crossed and she's swinging the top one back and forth with her shoe (the one Ken's been attending to, as it happens) kind of dangling half on and half off her foot.

She's doing it just purely to tantalise this Phil character, I can tell. "Yes, thank you, Philip," she grins, all flirty.

"I'll definitely come and see you if I need anything," she pouts. Oh for god's sake, Em. She's scratching a pretend itch now, right up under her skirt.

Fuck, Em, stop it! -- it's funny and all how she's teasing the poor guy but I want to be off. Keen to knock this on the head and get back to our hotel.

"My pleasure, Emma," he creeps. Old Phil is transfixed. Talk about drooling!

Emma picks up my distress signals. She slides off the desk and makes clear that she's ready to depart. Cue for Phil to say his goodbyes and see-you-laters. So ... at last! ... back to the hotel.

*

We walk back, me and Emma laughing and joking around together, Ken mute and tagging along. "Sorry about that, honey," she says. She isn't.

"I thought the guy would never go," I smirk. "You're a fucking tease, Em. That's what you are."

Emma giggles. "Yeah, bit naughty of me, I know. Just couldn't help myself." She slips her arm around my waist, under my jacket, and I reciprocate. "So, Marky Mark, am I a bad girl?" she says in a soft 'baby doll' voice. I can spank her later, she whispers. Oh god.

Since it's getting quite late we agree on a quick change then meet in the bar. We'll have dinner in the hotel restaurant.

Emma's and my 'superior' rooms are next to each other on the top floor, Ken's 'basic' affair is on the second. When the lift stops there, Em decides she wants to see Ken's room so we all hop out.

"Gee, this is rather small," she laughs, checking out the boxy little space. "Just our bathrooms are bigger than this, Mark, aren't they?"

"Well you get what you pay for, Em, don't you?" I say.

"Yeah, guess so," she grins. "And I suppose it's perfectly okay for my assistant. Hey, am I also his boss outside of the office?"

"Course, baby. All week. Told you that, didn't I?"

She looks at Ken, who's sat on the bed listening. "Hear that, Ken? I'm your boss here too." Ken nods.

"It's like I own you for the week, isn't it?" she giggles.

He nods again.

"My toy," she reaches forward and tickles under his chin, "... to play with however I want."

"P-P-Please, Emma!" He's on the edge of tears, poor guy. Being utterly humiliated by a 22 year old girl.

I break in. "C'mon, Em, let's go." She's tweaking Kenny's nose around now. It's hilarious but I'm getting hungry.

"Okay, honey, sorry," she grins. "Yeah, let's go. Dinnertime!" "See you, Ken," she says, giving him a last nose-tweak -- a hard one, really jerks it around.

"Yeah, see you down there, Kenny boy," I snigger, and I amuse Emma by finger-flicking Ken's ears and ruffling his hair before we leave.

"Oh, don't bother changing, Ken," Emma calls back to him. "I like my assistants in suit and tie."

"But brush your hair, it's a fucking mess," I can't resist. It is just like Em said. Like he's our toy. It's exactly like that.

In the lift going up she suggests something which makes my heart sing. Also makes my dick hard because what it is, Em's suggestion, is that I move my stuff into her room. "Only need the one, honey, don't we?" she smiles. "And my bed's nice and big." Oh yeah!

Takes me five minutes tops to do the transfer. Should we give Ken my room, I wonder? No, she says -- it's too good for an assistant. Time for a fuck before we go down? No, giggles Emma. Later. I can have sex with her after dinner. She lets me watch her shower and change, however, and that's a very horny spectacle, believe me. Jesus, what a body. It's out of this world!

Em loves me watching. She tells me to stay naked apart from my boxers (office rig off but shirt/chinos combo not yet on) while I do. Reason for this, she giggles, is she wants to see the effect she's having on my dick.

She's not disappointed. The close-up view of her stripping naked, showering, towelling dry, then slowly dressing herself in bra and panties and little black dress ... rubbing lotion into her legs ... oh fuck! ... I'm going crazy with desire for her. Which she knows, the teasing little minx. By the time she's finished ("zip me up, baby") I'm a wreck. I'm sat there on the bed and my cock's on fire. I'm so hard my erection has popped my fly, it's sticking right out, totally on display. It's kind of throbbing.

Emma gazes down in delight. "Oooo, you ARE a big boy, Marky, aren't you?" she chuckles. She bends over in front of me in the low-cut dress and reaches down and tickles my shaft with her fingers.

"Oh god, Em," I groan and she grins, bites her bottom lip, and keeps stroking my cock, doing it very gently with one finger, running her finger up and down the shaft, driving me just utterly fucking wild. She brings her other hand into play and she softly handles my balls, weighs and squeezes and caresses them.

And all the time her luscious tits are jiggling around in this sexy little dress right before my eyes. Oh fuck.

The girl is skilful, knows exactly what she's doing. It's heaven! Hell too, because she won't let me come. Bitch is torturing me!

Emma pouts, licks her lips, giggling herself silly now - she's revelling in this. She kneels down and takes me into her mouth, slides it slowly all the way in, suckles and sucks, then slides it out again. "Mmmm, SUCH a yummy cock you have, Mark honey," she purrs.

She licks and nibbles at it for a while, carries on till I'm bucking and howling out. "Oh fuck, Em! ... oh god almighty! ... please, baby girl! ... please, Emma! ... please, baby!"

Yeah, to say I want to forget dinner and fuck Emma Mills' brains out right here and right now is understatement of the century.

But no dice. There's 'cock-teasing' and then there's what Em is doing to me here. We need another word for this. She gives my dick a little butterfly kiss, right on the tip, and stands up. "Later, honey," she whispers. "You can have me later." Later? Oh god, bring it on.

She gees me up. "C'mon get dressed, let's not keep poor Ken waiting. I'm hungry."

*

Ken's already down there, still in his office clothes as Em instructed. We join him - I sit next to Em with Ken opposite - and we order pre-dinner drinks. I have a beer, Emma has a campari soda, Ken has a tap water. "Watching the budget," I say, when I suggest he sticks to that.

Guy brings the menus out to the table in the bar where we're sitting. He treats himself to a look down Emma's dress (no bra for Em this evening) and has a good ogle at her legs. Ken's snatching longing glances at her legs too (which amuses me no end). Trying to hide it, but he is. Em's legs do look unbearably sexy in her little short dress. Long and tanned and shapely, no tights or anything, the hint of lotion highlighting her smooth, flawless skin. She has them crossed and she's showing a teasing amount of thigh. God, I want to touch them!

I tell Emma this, whisper in her ear how much I'd love to put my hand on her leg. "Sure, Mark, do it," she giggles. Oh yeah! I wait until I see Ken ogling again and then I put my hand on Em's thigh, right up close to where her dress finishes. Poor guy must know I'm gonna be fucking her later.

We sip our drinks as we study the menu. Emma seems extremely interested in what Ken likes food-wise, has quite a conversation about it, wants to know which course he tends to prefer when he eats out -- starter or main or pudding -- what his favourite dishes are, are any of his favourites on offer here etc etc? All friendly, she is, and Ken's starting to relax slightly.

Turns out there ARE some things he really likes on the menu -- he's going to order prawn cocktail followed by the steak, he tells Emma. Then maybe treacle sponge and custard for pudding.

"Sounds delicious," agrees Emma. "And how do you like your steak, Kenny? Medium?" No, well done.

"Guess you're hungry," she smiles. "Only that tiny piece of tomato for lunch."

"Sure am," says Ken, patting his stomach, risking a shy grin.

I'm just listening to this and wondering where it's going.

Ken's been gobbling at the nuts on the table. "Stop it, Kenny, you'll ruin your appetite for dinner," Emma admonishes.

"Sorry, Em!" There's the stupid little half-grin again.

"It's Emma," she corrects him - quite sharply.

"Right. Sorry, Emma." Grin is gone now. Thank god -- didn't suit him.

"Put them over there," she points. "Out of the way so you're not tempted." Ken removes the nuts to another table, returns, and we chat for a while longer. The bar is quiet and we notice a periodic rumbling noise. It's Ken's belly. "Gosh, you ARE hungry, aren't you?" Emma laughs. He nods. Sure is.

Em looks at me. "Okay, so Ken knows what he's having - how about you, honey?"

I tell her I've decided, so let's order.

I beckon the waiter -- different from the drinks guy but precisely the same as regards the drooling attention he gives Emma. She rewards him by flirting a little as she orders. She's having prawn cocktail followed by the steak. Rare, medium or well done? "Oh well done, please," she says, somehow making this sound sexy and suggestive. And can she order pudding now? "I'm not watching my figure tonight," she pouts. Fine, says the guy, who IS watching Em's figure - he's totally letching over her. "Okay, treacle sponge then," says Emma. "With custard."

"You've talked me into it," she smiles at Ken, toying with him. He nods and smiles back, silly fucker.

"You, sir?" The waiter has managed to drag his eyes away from Em and he's looking at me.

"Exactly the same for me, please," I tell him, grinning at Emma.

"And you?" Ken doesn't get a 'sir' for some reason. Wonder why.

Ken puts his menu down and grins. "Right, well ..."

"Oh, hang on a second!" Emma interjects, raising her hand in a 'stop' signal. "Sorry, can you give us a few minutes," she says to the waiter.

"Sure, darling," he says and he trots off. He's so got the hots for Em!

Ken's looking perplexed.

"What, Em?" I ask her.

She grins at me. "Well, just remembered ... we're gonna put old Fatty here on a diet this week, honey, aren't we?"

"Oh yeah, right," I nod. "So, just you and me for dinner then, babe, is it?"

"Yes, honey. Not that I don't like being taken to dinner by two men but, you know, if Fatty's on a diet he can't exactly be having steak and fries and treacle pudding and stuff, can he?"

"No, guess not."

Poor Kenny is sat there looking utterly miserable. "B-B-But Mark, I have to eat something," he pleads. Stammer's back. God it's pitiful, it really is.

I grin and point to Em. "Don't look at me, Fatso. Emma's your boss."

He turns to her. "Emma, I h-h-have to, I'm r-r-really h-h-hungry." As if on cue his belly gives a couple of very loud growls.

Emma chuckles. "So I hear! Okay ... just tonight, though." She retrieves the half empty bowl of nuts and places it in front of Ken. "You can finish these, you have my permission to eat every last one. But then it's back to your room, yes?"

What an utter utter bitch!

"We'll work your diet out as we go along," she informs him. "Kind of play it by ear. You'll thank us one day, Ken. Just think of the weight you'll be losing this week! Won't be quite so fat by Friday, will you?"

He's almost crying.

Emma grins at him. "Aw, come on, look on the bright side ... least me and Mark will get to eat your favourite dinner tonight!"

"And no ordering any room service, Lardy boy, okay?" I throw in.

"No, Mark," he mutters.

"Because I'll know. Fact, if there's anything at all on your bill apart from the room when I'm settling up on Friday morning there'll be fucking hell to pay. You got that, Kenneth?" As I'm roasting him, I'm caressing Emma's bare, silky-smooth thigh, my fingers snaking up under her dress Yes, I think it's safe to say that it's much better being Mark Reynolds than Kenneth 'Fatty' Longbottom at this point.

"Y-Y-Yes, Mark,"

"How about 'yes sir'," I snap.

"Yes s-s-sir."

Emma giggles. She loves that. "Honey, maybe you better confiscate his bank cards too. That way we know for certain he won't be sneaky and buy food when we're not around."

"Yeah, nice one, Em," I grin. "Gimme!" I say, holding out my hand. Ken gets his wallet out and starts poking around in it.

"The fucking wallet," I tell him. "So I see you're not cheating." I put it in my pocket. "You'll get it back at the end of the week."

"How much cash do you have in your pockets, Ken?" Emma inquires. He just shakes his head. "Show me," she orders. It's a few coins. Emma collects them and gives then to me. "Anything in your room?" No, there isn't.

"Perfect," she says. "We can totally ration him now, Mark, can't we?"

"Yep," I chuckle.

"All week," she grins.

"Yep."

Emma's face is evil. "Maybe if he, you know, pleases me in some extra-special way ... tries really really hard to keep his boss happy ... then he'll get to enjoy a little snack now and again." The girl is ruthless!

She dismisses Ken. "Okay, Fatty, off to your room. I want to have dinner with hunky Mark. You can take the nuts with you." Poor Kenny picks up the bowl -- there's maybe a couple dozen salted peanuts left in there -- and shuffles out of the bar towards the lifts. We wait until we see him get in, and the doors close, then we just totally crack up.

"Em, you are one fucking sadistic little bitch!"

She's giggling so much she can't answer.

"Wonder if the poor bastard's gonna be dreaming of steak and chips all night?" I muse.

"And treacle sponge and custard!" she splutters. "Oh my god, what a scream! Mark, did you see his little face when he realised he wasn't getting any dinner? And then that 'sir' business, oh god, honey, that killed me! Maybe he should start calling you Sir at work ... what do you reckon?"

"Why not?" I grin.

Emma goes quiet for a second but there's a gleam in her eye which doesn't bode well for Ken. Is she planning to absolutely torture the poor cunt for the rest of the week? Yes, I believe she is.

I call the waiter back and explain that our friend is feeling ill so won't be joining us - just two for the restaurant. The guy gives me an envious look (he's been checking out Emma pretty much the whole time we've been sat here) and I have to say I don't blame him, don't blame him one iota. I'm about to have dinner with the sexiest piece he's ever laid eyes on and then I'm going upstairs to bang her gorgeous little brains out! I order the wine (bottle of house red) and can't resist a smirk in his direction as I walk arm-in-arm with Emma towards the restaurant. You can look -- fact, please do -- but I'll be doing all the touching. Sorry, mate.

*

Dinner is great - although I admit my mind is mainly on what's going to happen after!

There's her dress for one thing. It's dangerously low-cut and I can't help but ogle her fabulous tits. Ditto our waiter, yet another guy now, who comes over rather more than is strictly necessary. Annoys me a little, this does, but Em likes it so I don't say anything. Any case, the guy she's mainly flirting with and teasing throughout the meal is me, so I'm happy enough.

When I say 'teasing' I mean exactly that. Emma has her foot in my lap, under the table, and she has herself a ball tickling my dick with her toes. She slips her shoe off so she can really get into it - little minx keeps me hard as a rock right through from prawn cocktail to treacle sponge (with custard)!

When we're almost finished, Emma fishes her phone from her bag and calls Ken to tell him, (1) how "delish" our dinner was, and (2) no, Kenny boy, don't watch television because she wants a 2000 word essay entitled 'the importance of doing what Empress Emma tells me' by first thing tomorrow morning. "Well, get some paper from the hotel, then," she snaps. "Yes, Fatty, by tomorrow morning. No excuses. Bye."

"What a lemon!" she laughs.

"Er, who's this Empress Emma?" I wonder.

She gives a sly grin. "Well, you know. You're going to be 'Sir' so I figured it'd be nice if I had a title too."

"Ah."

"It's okay, honey, isn't it? ... if I make him call me Empress?"

"Course, baby."

"I AM his absolute ruler, after all," Em giggles, looking gleeful. God, I really don't envy Ken for the rest of the week. Poor bastard. Or tonight for that matter. No food and now, it appears, not much sleep either -- it's late and he's about to tuck into a 2000 word essay.

Bet he'd rather be tucking into Emma Mills, which is what I'm about to do.

Isn't it?

Yes -- she wants to go upstairs now. "C'mon, honey, I want you," she pouts. "Get the tab."

She snogs my face off in the lift going up and I respond. Her hands go everywhere and so do mine. She presses herself against me and I feel her hot little body through the thin material of her dress. "Oh god, Em," I grunt and I squeeze her ass, grind my pulsating erection against her belly.

She gets a hand in there and fondles me through my pants. "Mmm, loving this big cock, honey," she breathes in my ear, caressing my growing bulge. Top floor, so it takes a while -- by the time the doors open I'm simply gagging for it!

Emma knows I am and she's enjoying herself. "Do you want me, Marky?" she's giggling, taunting me, as we get to our door. "Do you wanna take me to bed and make love to me?"

I don't bother answering -- is it an actual question? -- I just fling the door open and drag her inside.

"Take me, Mark. Take me, big boy," she pants. Oh fucking yeah!

I rip her dress off -- yes, rip! -- and yank her knickers down and I throw the sexy bitch on the bed. Then I drop my pants and I jump on her. Only way it isn't rape is the girl isn't saying "no". What she's saying, or moaning rather, is "oh yeah, Mark, gimme that lovely sexy cock! - wanna feel it inside me - fuck me, Marky! - take me, you big horny bastard! - oh yeah, baby, fuck me! - fuck me fuck me FUCK ME!!!"

It's over Pretty Damn Quick. I ram inside Emma's dripping wet pussy (god, the horny bitch was ready!) and pump her and then I explode into the biggest orgasm of my life.

Em orgasms too. She loves being fucked like that, she tells me as we're lying there afterwards.

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