323

Tom walked down the dimly lit corridor at a leisurely pace. He had all night to check the offices.

Another Friday night/Saturday morning shot to shit, stuck at work, he thought.

Working 10:00pm -- 6:00am, Thursday through Sunday precluded any chance at a social life, and it was boring work, but at least it was a job. And, the shift ensured he wouldn't run into any corporate big wigs while patrolling the halls and offices.

Every three hours -- starting at 11:00pm -- he was required to make a tour of the building, checking for leaking pipes, overflowing toilets, and anyone who didn't belong. The first night, his supervisor told him he didn't care if Tom's patrol took him 20 minutes, or the entire three hours, as long as the patrol sheet was properly filled out for some eager corporate underling to file in the appropriate cabinet located deep in the catacombs of the building's basement.

Each night, Tom toured the building, opened each office, looked around, and then closed each door. Occasionally, he would take a break, sitting down in someone or other's cushy office chair. He'd relax for a few minutes, then continue his patrol. Four nights a week, for the last three months, Tom had worked his way up one side of the corridor -- scarcely noticing the numberless family and vacation photos, stuffed animals, and greeting cards on the desks, or mounted on the walls, in the offices -- then down the other side of the hallway. He had quickly learned nothing really changed except the digits on the office door. And, he anticipated nothing would interrupt the same routine this night.

Unlocking office 323, he opened the door and stepped into the darkness of what he thought of as the outer office. It held a desk and a few chairs. On the far wall, a door led to a larger, interior office. Light spilled from the half-open door to the inner office. He heard music. It wasn't unusual to find lights on, or even to come across someone working late, so Tom wasn't concerned. He closed the door leading to the hallway, and crossed to the inner office door.

He was about to announce himself, so he didn't scare anyone, when he heard another sound. It sounded like a soft moan. Tom peeked around the doorframe. He saw a woman bent over the large, wooden L-shaped desk, perpendicular to him. Her royal blue dress was bunched around her waist, her white panties and tights were pushed down to her thighs, and her bra rested on the desk. A man stood behind her, his pants open. He leaned over her, his hands on her hips, as he pumped himself into her.

"Yes, Mr. Kimmerlee," he heard the woman whimper.

She was young and attractive. Late-20s, he thought. Her skin was pale white, and her long, brown hair splayed across her back and shoulders. From what he could see, she had a wonderful body. She wasn't bone thin, but he certainly wouldn't call her thick. She had just a hint of baby fat that gave her curves a man could grab onto. The frail, balding man currently doing just that was obviously much older than her.

Tom nearly called out, but stopped himself. He watched them for a few moments, before an idea hit his brain. He pulled out his cell phone and took a picture of the two. Then a second. And, a third. As the camera clicked a fourth time, the woman turned her head and caught sight of him.

"Oh, my God," she screamed, as she stood up straight, and tried to cover herself with her hands. "Who the hell are you?"

"Tom," he answered. "Security."

Phil's face fell as he looked at Tom.

"I... we didn't mean... it just happened," the man stammered.

The woman reached down to pull up her panties and tights.

"Don't move a muscle," Tom said, loudly.

Her hands returned to their positions covering her breasts and crotch. Tom noticed the man's left hand, still on the woman's hip. He took note of the gold wedding ring there, then glanced at the name plate on the door. Philip Kimmerlee, Vice President of Technology Development.

"Are you Mr. Kimmerlee?" Tom asked the man.

"Yes," he responded, sheepishly, studying the floor.

"Well, we know who I am," he reflected, focusing on the woman, "and we know who Phil is. So, that leaves us with one question. Who are you?"

"Em... Emily," she almost whispered.

"What are you doing here, Em Emily?" Tom inquired, needlessly. "You know, besides the obvious."

"We were working late," she pointed out.

"I can see that," Tom laughed. "And, working hard."

She scowled at him.

"What do you do here, Em Emily?" Tom coaxed, "besides bend over Phil's desk?"

"I'm Mr. Kimmerlee's executive assistant," she answered.

"Shit," Tom swore, "I should have stayed in college."

Tom took time to observe the two of them.

"So, Phil," he began, "what would your wife think about all this?"

Phil took a step backward. His cock poked out between his shirttails.

"Tsk, tsk," Tom said to Emily, "fucking the boss without a condom."

He looked at the man.

"I don't know, Phil," he quipped, "I think you're asking for trouble.

"Get out of my office," Phil commanded, trying to take control of the situation.

"Technology is an amazing thing," Tom proclaimed, to nobody in particular. "I'm sure you can agree, Phil; being a technology guy and all. I mean, when I was born, we were still using rotary phones and 8-track tape players."

Silence hung in the air for several moments.

"Now," Tom continued, holding up his cell phone, "you can do everything with these things. Listen to music; get directions; make reservations; view porn; even take pictures of the VP of a major airline cheating on his wife by fucking a hot, young piece of ass in his office."

"What do you want?" Phil challenged.

"I wonder what your boss would think if he knew you're banging your secretary," he remarked.

"Executive assistant," Emily reminded him.

Phil repeated his question while Tom smiled at her.

"I want you to finish what you started," he said, after a moment's thought.

"What?" Phil asked, stunned.

"I want you to finish fucking Emily," Tom clarified.

"You're crazy," Phil objected.

"I'm not," Tom asserted. "A bit of a pervert, for sure. But, not crazy. I just like to watch."

"I'm leaving," Emily reported, pushing Phil back a step.

Again, she reached down to pull up her underwear and tights.

"If you leave," Tom assured her, "these pictures go up to the boss."

"You'll never get in to see him," Emily snapped.

"Honey, I patrol this entire building, including his office," Tom explained. "I could leave copies of them on his desk."

She deflated.

"Or, I could just e-mail them," Tom continued. "There's a directory on half the desks in the building."

Emily and Phil looked at each other, then at Tom.

"Bend over," he ordered.

She obeyed.

"Now, Phil, push up her dress," Tom dictated.

Phil followed his instructions.

"Fuck her," Tom said.

"I can't," Phil claimed.

"You don't have a choice here, Phil," Tom reminded him.

Phil pulled his shirttails aside, revealing his now flaccid cock.

"Emily; Phil isn't rising to the occasion," Tom joked. "Help him."

Emily gazed at Tom as he walked to the side of the desk -- he noticed that she had hazel eyes.

"Get on your knees and suck his cock," he insisted.

She slipped off the desk and turned toward Phil.

"Take off that dress, first," Tom told her, before she began. "Take off everything. Both of you."

They hesitated, but then grudgingly complied. As they did, Tom admired Emily's body. She stood about 5'5", and had heavy, C-cup breasts. His eyes lingered on a dark triangle of trimmed pubic hair between her legs.

"Get him hard," Tom chided, once both were naked.

Emily sank down and took Phil's penis in her mouth. It took several minutes for him to get hard.

"Now, get up here and bend over the desk again," Tom said, "on your elbows. I want to see those big tits hanging down."

Phil seemed unsure of what to do.

"Fuck her, Phil," Tom sneered. "Finish what you started."

Moving up behind Emily, Phil pushed himself inside her. He started out slowly, moving in and out as Tom eyed them both.

"Have you ever had two cocks at once, Emily?" Tom asked.

"Once," she admitted, as Phil continued moving into her, "in college."

"Tell me," Tom compelled.

"I had to blow two guys at the same time to get into Delta Nu Epsilon," she revealed.

"Where did they cum?" Tom pressed.

"On my breasts," she answered.

"Good choice," Tom opined.

Opening his pants, Tom pulled out his semi-erect cock. He reached out to take Emily's hand, and pulled it toward him. She resisted.

"Jerk me off, bitch," he demanded.

She looked up at him as Phil continued to fuck her. Unwillingly, she wrapped her hand around his stiffening dick, and stroked it.

"Harder, Emily," he said. "You're not gonna break it."

Emily tightened her grip and increased the speed and intensity of her efforts. Tom reached out and slapped her ass.

"That's it, Baby," he exhorted, "do it like you mean it."

Phil began to grunt loudly as he thrust deep inside Emily. She turned her head to peer back at him.

"Not inside me," she cried. "Don't cum inside me!"

Phil didn't speak, but slipped his cock out of her pussy and up between the cheeks of her ass. He continued driving his hips into her cheeks as his cum began to shoot onto her skin. It covered Emily's lower back and began running down the crack of her ass. Phil took a step back, then awkwardly lowered himself into his chair.

"Turn over, Emily," Tom directed.

"Wait," Phil complained. "Don't get that on my desk."

"Well, you'd better get something to wipe it up with," Tom recommended.

"Me?" Phil asked, as if he'd been insulted.

"Asshole, if you don't get something," Tom interjected, motioning toward the garment hanging on the back of his chair, "we're gonna use the jacket of your thousand dollar suit."

"Shit," Phil snorted, as he scrambled toward his private bathroom.

Emily gaped at Tom.

"Flip over," he said.

"But...," she began.

"Fuck him," Tom murmured.

Emily rolled over, placing her ass at the edge of the desk. Her legs hung over the side. Tom spread her legs and moved between them.

"Please, don't," Emily sobbed.

"I'm not going to fuck you," Tom stated. "I'm not into sloppy seconds."

"What do you want then?" she asked, as Phil returned with two hands full of tissues.

"Awww, man," Phil lamented.

Tom glared at him.

"Sit down and shut up," he rumbled. "Watch me cum on Emily's tits."

Nodding his head, Tom motioned her down.

"Get on your knees," he said.

She knelt beside the desk, and he moved in front of her, his hard cock before him.

"Now, use both hands," he urged.

As she stroked him, he grabbed a handful of hair and tugged, tilting her head back. He pulled his cock away from her as he drew her closer.

"Pucker your lips," he growled.

"No," she pleaded.

"Pucker your fucking lips," he repeated, yanking on her hair.

He rubbed the tip of his cock along her lips, smearing them with pre-cum. His hand moved up and down his shaft a few more times, and he felt his balls tighten.

"Here it comes," he informed her. "I'm gonna cum!"

Tom looked down at her, and she licked her lips, tasting him there. His hips bucked, and he erupted; shooting hot, white cum onto her neck. Struggling to remain standing, he fired again, splattering his seed across her chest. Having no choice, she stayed there as stream after stream of semen hit her skin.

"Fuck, yes," he snarled, as his body continued shuddering.

Finally, spent, he released her hair. Emily beheld the mess on her chest. She dragged her fingers through his cum, then rubbed it into her skin. Weakening, Tom leaned on the desk, and eyed her sticky breasts.

"That's a beautiful sight," he crooned. "Don't you think so, Phil?"

"Yes," the man said, meekly, "whatever you say."

As Emily stood up, he reached out and took her hand, assisting her. She raised her eyes to his.

"Now, what?" she sighed.

"Well," Tom began, tucking his wilting penis back in his pants, "if you two are done 'working' for the night, you can get dressed."

Emily was about to say something, but he cut her off.

"How 'bout we do this again next Friday night?" he proposed, while he zipped up, and buckled his belt.

"I can't," Phil raged.

"You didn't seem to have a problem tonight," Tom remarked.

"Please..." Emily whispered.

"This is..." Phil sputtered. "I mean... it was just an accident."

"Ohhh, I see," Tom mocked. "Your dick accidently slipped into Emily's pussy?"

Once more, Phil scanned the floor.

"Next week," Tom said. "Same time, same place."

Emily frowned as he turned to leave.

"Have a good rest of your night, folks," Tom called out as he walked out the door, through the outer office, and into the hallway.

After stopping to take a piss, Tom returned to the security counter in the front lobby.

"Everything quiet upstairs?" his supervisor, Frank, asked without looking up from his newspaper.

"Everything is everything," Tom answered. "A few people working late, but nothing out of the ordinary, and no leaking pipes.

"Good," Frank observed, returning to the adventures of Beetle Bailey.

Tom sat down at the far end of the counter and pulled out his phone.

15 minutes later, the elevator dinged. When the doors opened, Emily emerged. She walked across the lobby to Frank. She spoke quietly to him. Tom couldn't make out what she said, but Frank pointed at Tom, then turned and walked toward him.

"Miss Callahan here needs an escort to her car," he reported. "Think you can handle that?"

"I live to serve," Tom answered, smiling as he stood up.

"I really can't afford to lose this job." Emily said, once the lobby doors swung closed behind them.

"I don't want that to happen either," Tom responded, as they made their way into the parking lot.

"Then, please, delete those pictures," she begged. "I'll do whatever you want. I promise."

"I'm not going to do that," he maintained.

"Why not?" she pleaded.

"If you're a good girl," he suggested, ignoring her question, "no one else will see them, or find out about you and good ole Phil."

"What do you want from me?" she asked.

"I told you," he contended. "Next Friday night, I'll watch you two fuck again."

"And, that's it?" she pressed.

"Well, I think while Phil's fucking you, I'll push my cock into that pretty little mouth of yours," he said.

They walked the rest of the way to her car, a yellow Volkswagen Beetle, in silence. She'd parked in the far corner of the lot, away from the building.

"Nice car," he commented. "Expensive?"

"It's a lease," she divulged, as she fished her keys from her purse and unlocked the door.

Tom opened it for her, but she didn't get in.

"How did the pictures come out?" she asked, suddenly.

"Excuse me," he said, not sure he'd heard her correctly.

She repeated the question.

"Perfectly," he declared. "Good lighting. Nobody would have any problem identifying the people in them, or the office."

"May I see them?" she requested.

"Why?" he required, suspicious of her.

"How do I know they aren't blurry?" she challenged. "Maybe you can't see anything, and you're blackmailing me with nothing."

He thought for a moment. She glowered at him confidently. Pulling out his cell phone, he thumbed his way through the pictures, then held the phone up to her, with the first picture he'd taken displayed on the small screen. He saw the disappointment in her eyes.

"This phone takes surprisingly good pictures," he reflected, turning it to face him, and thumbing to the next picture. "No video though. Too bad."

As he turned the phone back toward her, she snatched it from his hand, and jumped in her car, pulling the door closed before he could react. He pulled on the handle, but she'd locked the door. Tom stood next to the car, quietly. He watched, silently, as she scrolled through and deleted all the pictures from his phone. She lowered the window an inch and handed the phone to him. He laughed as he took it.

"You fucking, dumb bitch," he chuckled. "Do you really think I'd have let you take that phone if I hadn't already e-mailed the pictures to myself?"

"You're lying," she said.

"I sent them twice, just to be sure," he assured her.

He thumbed through his apps and opened his sent mail. Turning the phone toward the window, he showed her. Again, she was disappointed.

"Yeah, I'm a rent-a-cop, so I'm a fucking idiot, right?" he jeered.

Dejectedly, she shook her head.

"Get out of the car," he ordered.

Slowly, she obeyed, standing in the open door.

"Now," he scolded, "down on your knees."

"What?!" she fumed.

"Since you insulted my intelligence, you need to be punished," he said, staring into her eyes.

She looked down at the blacktop, but didn't move.

"What about the parking lot cameras?" she asked.

"Actually, you're parked in one of the blind spots," he noted. "The cameras don't pick up a bunch of the spaces in the four corners of the lot."

"Great," she replied, not sounding overly impressed by this information.

Still, she didn't kneel. He took off his black security windbreaker, folded it, and dropped it at his feet.

"Oh, what a gentleman you are," she remarked, sarcastically.

"On your fucking knees," he charged, while unbuckling his belt.

Tom turned to lean against the car as he opened his pants. He pushed them down enough to allow his stiffening cock to pop out.

"Let's go," he grumbled. "I have to get back to the desk."

Emily sank down in front of him. She adjusted the jacket under her knees, and glanced up. He aimed himself at her lips. Sticking out her tongue, she licked the swollen head of his cock.

"Suck it," he commanded.

Her lips parted and she took the tip in her mouth. As she accepted more of him, he watched her lips stretch. Gradually, she allowed more -- bit by bit. Reaching up, her right hand wrapped around his shaft. She jerked him steadily -- working it from his balls to her lips.

"Good girl," he said.

"Fuck you," she seethed, her mouth abandoning him.

"Keep going," he demanded. "See how far you can take it."

"Not very far," she objected. "It's pretty big."

"Awww, you say the nicest things," he joked, knowing that while not huge, he was above average in length and girth.

"Asshole," she swore.

"Get back to work," he suggested. "The sooner you make me cum, the sooner you can go."

"Warn me before you cum," she groused.

Her left hand rose to his scrotum, and she caressed his balls as she returned to sucking and stroking -- increasing the speed of both. Tom put his right hand on the top of her head -- his fingers tangling in her hair -- guiding her. Just minutes later, he could feel the familiar ache growing in his balls.

"I'm getting close, Emily," he groaned. "Don't stop!"

"Mmmm, hmmm," she hummed in response.

"I want you to swallow it," he boomed.

She shook her head, and tried to pull back. He tugged her hair roughly, holding her in place; keeping the head of his cock in her hot mouth. Emily put her hands on his legs, trying to escape, but he added his left hand to her head and held her firmly.

"Fuck, I'm cumming, Emily," he grunted. "I'm cumming!"

His body convulsed and he exploded; firing his cum into her mouth. At first, Emily struggled, then relented as his seed hit the back of her throat. She relaxed, trying to both breathe and contain his load.

More than a minute passed before Tom's body relaxed and he released her hair. Immediately, Emily twisted and leaned over, putting her hands on the ground, and spit out his cum.

"Shit, you're good with that mouth," he complimented.

"Cocksucker!" she thundered, between spits.

"Yes," he taunted. "You're a very good one."

She turned her head to glare at him. He held her gaze as she straightened to rest on her haunches. Holding out his hand, he helped her to her feet. She looked into his eyes, and stopped for a moment, before he turned her toward the front seat.