The Company Retreat

The Company Retreat

The Devil is present at Mandy's company's retreat

I have a good job. I get decent pay and excellent benefits. I'm mostly left alone which I like, and I'm good at what I do. The one flaw in this happy equation is the meetings. They drive me up the wall.

The meetings are interminable, nothing much gets accomplished, and when I myself say something people politely listen and then just as politely ignore whatever I had to say. You never know, but it might be because I'm a woman. Sometimes a woman's voice is just not heard.

Now management has scheduled a two-day retreat! We have to schlep up to Stamford, CT to the Marriott there for meetings for two days. In the evening of the first day there will be cocktails, dinner, and an enforced sociality.

By the end of the first day of the aforementioned retreat it was 11pm and I was exhausted with frustration. I needed a swim.

I got dressed in my suit and wore a T shirt over it, and donned too the terrycloth robe the hotel provides in one's room. I went down to the pool, prepared to do as many laps as it took to destress. It would be a lot! I got there only to learn it had closed for the night at 10:30! Now the way I deal with stress is to exercise, and apparently swimming was not an option. I had to use the gym.

I returned to my room and discovered I had forgotten to pack my exercise clothes. I didn't even have a sports bra! No, I had worn a lacy, see-through bra, and stupidly I had not packed a spare. I couldn't risk getting it all sweaty because of the meetings the next morning. Fuck it; how many people would be exercising at 11:30PM anyway? I went without a bra, in my T shirt, and I wore my bikini bottoms of my swim suit in lieu of my forgotten exercise shorts and I headed to the gym.

I must have looked like one of those crazy people in a Peloton ad, I was bicycling so furiously. It was working, too. Little by little, as my heart rate reached 182 I could feel the stress melt away. I pedaled for 45 minutes before I felt I was stress free. I was drenched in my own sweat. I got off the bicycle and did some more stretching, sticking my chest out as I stretched.

That's when Kevin came in, all dressed in the latest high-fashion exercise clothes. His eyes were riveted to my body and I suddenly became aware that I must have looked like I had just won the Peloton wet T shirt contest. I was not in shorts, either, but wearing only the bikini bottoms of my swimsuit.

Kevin was taking pictures with his iPhone of the way I looked. "Kevin!" I exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

Kevin smiled. He didn't way a word but came over to me, blocking and trapping me in the corner where I had been stretching. He continued to smile as he pulled down my bikini bottoms.

"No, Kevin," I said. "Not tonight, not ever. We agreed, remember?"

"You should see yourself, Mandy. No heathy man could resist you, dressed the way you are, covered in sweat with your gorgeous boobs visible right through your T shirt," Kevin said. He was still blocking my escape.

"No," I repeated. "I told you, that one time was a mistake. You're married, you know. The answer is no!"

"We've done it once, Mandy. One more time? You know you want to," Kevin said. He was pulling down his exercise shorts and wow - he was already hard. I was remembering how good it was when we fucked that time I was drunk. This time, however, I was sober.

"You're married, Kevin, and I'm almost engaged. It's not a good idea," I said.

"I'll be hard all night if you don't help me out, pretty and sexy woman," he said.

"Pretend your right hand is me. I'm leaving," and I tried and failed to push past him.

Kevin reminded me I was naked below the waist by using his hand to cup my mound. I groaned. Big mistake!

Kevin smiled. "Admit you want to, and I'll let you go," he said.

"God yes, I want to. You know I do. One of us though has to be mature, Kevin. Now let me go!"

"It's just one more time. We've already done it once, and we both want to do it now - where's the harm?"

"Because it's immoral! I won't do it, even if I want to. Now let me go. You promised," I said.

"Okay, you can go. Just give me a kiss, okay?"

"Really? I'm all hot and sweaty," I said.

"I'll say you're hot! You're always hot, and now you're sweaty, too. I love you sweaty, you gorgeous woman," Kevin said, and he took my sweaty body in his arms and he kissed me. While we kissed, his right hand held my head in place and his left hand did some serious damage at my weakest point. God, the man has talent.

That one kiss became many kisses, constantly coupled with probably the best fingering of any woman in southern Connecticut. His right hand stopped holding my head and instead pushed up my T shirt revealing my slightly too large boobs to his lustful eyes.

I couldn't help it but my hand - which seemed to have a mind of its own - went to his erection and I fondled it a little while we kissed. He fondled both my boobs and my pussy, and when his right hand went to my anus, his left hand still fingering me and finding my g spot, I lost it and climaxed.

I crumpled to the floor, my back to the wall, breathing heavily. Kevin moved me to my back and placed me on an exercise mat. He spread my legs. "This is a bad idea," I said, but we both knew I wanted him to continue. He continued.

When Kevin entered me I squealed in delight. God, but it felt good. Having him fuck my exhausted and sweaty body just turned me on so bad I couldn't get enough of his wonderful cock. We were alone in the exercise room so I let loose and moaned to my heart's content as my pelvis rose to meet his every thrust.

"Harder, stronger, give it to me," I whispered in a loud voice. I guess Kevin likes to please because after I said that he pounded me with his cock like nobody else ever had! It was so, so good! So erotic! I had my second climax with all of my customary orgiastic sound effects around the time that Kevin pulled out and unloaded on my tits and tummy.

"Bravo!" we both heard and we both froze. I knew that voice. It was the voice of my boss.

"Kevin, get the fuck out of here. I'll deal with you tomorrow," he said. My stomach rose into my throat. I was convulsed with lots of emotions, but the primary one seemed to be fear.

How would I tell my almost fiancé I was fired because I was caught copulating in the hotel's gym? It's a violation of company policy to "fraternize" with fellow employees. Fucking in a public space probably qualified.

Kevin left and my boss turned to me as I frantically put on my T shirt and looked even more frantically for my bikini bottoms. My terrycloth robe was draped over an elliptical trainer, on the wrong side of Mr. Hunt.

"I'm glad Kevin had the good sense not to cum inside you," my boss Mr. Hunt said. He was standing, staring at me and probably enjoying the view, including the fear on my face, while holding my bikini bottoms. I did not know what to say, so I was silent.

"You can really fuck, Mandy," he said.

I was scared, humiliated, embarrassed, ashamed, but mostly just plain terrified. "Uh..." was all I said.

"Your room, my room, or right here on the exercise mat, like good old Kevin?" he said, smiling a somewhat evil smile, evil even for him!

"Uh...," was all I could manage from my paralyzed mouth. This couldn't be happening!

"Oh, come on, Mandy. You've been caught red handed fucking another employee. Remember the no fraternization rule? Do you really want to be fired?" Mr. Hunt said. I couldn't remember his first name. It begins with a 'D' I thought. David, Daniel, Douglas, Dick, Dawson, Dennis, Drew, the Devil?...shit, I don't know.

"No," I said. "I like my job."

"Well then you know how to keep it, don't you?" he said, and he unbuckled his pants.

"Mr. Hunt, I'm all sweaty and a mess, and you just saw what Kevin did, so really I need to ..." was as far as I got. My T shirt was pulled up around my head and then off me and I was naked again.

"Mandy, I had no idea what a great body you have. Your boobs are magnificent. I saw too the way you fuck. Amazing. Your ass is a company asset." Mr. Hunt chuckled at his own joke. "Now lie down, please," he said.

"But..." I tried to say.

"Lie down, or you're fired, Mandy," he said.

"On my back, or on my stomach?" I spit out, trying and pathetically failing to sound venomous.

"Let's try on your hands and knees. I want to see your boobs bounce around as we enjoy each other, and I can't get over your perfect ass," he said.

I assumed the position and quick as a bunny Mr. Hunt plunged his cock deep inside me. I let out a loud gasp. He was big! I could not believe I was fucking my boss. Then I remembered I had just fucked Kevin, too! Holy shit.

Mr. Hunt was no Kevin but he was good. I gave up and tried to enjoy the sex. Actually, the shame of it all turned me on. Not only had I given in to Kevin's pressure, I had fucked in the exercise room of a hotel, and we had been caught by my boss, no less.

He had actually watched us fuck! I don't know for how long he had watched, but it was so embarrassing, so humiliating, to know he had watched us go at it. Keep it in perspective, girl! Now he was forcing me to fuck him to keep my job! That trumps it all now, doesn't it?

These were my thoughts as he fucked me. I was so busy thinking, that I was fucking on automatic pilot, so to speak. Suddenly my body screamed at me to pay attention and I emitted a loud moan, then another and then yet another just before my body exploded in a mind-altering orgasm of the first order. I collapsed onto my tummy, but Mr. Hunt flipped me onto my back as if I were a child's doll and he power fucked me until he exploded inside me. He then collapsed on top of my naked body.

Eventually he rolled off me. Without saying a word, I pulled myself upright, put my cum stained sweaty T shirt back on, found my bikini bottoms and my room key card and my terrycloth robe, and I stumbled out of the exercise room.

I made it back to my room to find my message light blinking. I had two messages on my phone, too. One was from my almost fiancé. I texted him back telling him I couldn't swim so I rode the Peloton to exhaustion and I'd be home the next night and missed him terribly but was going straight to bed.

The room phone message and the other iPhone message were both from Kevin. I told him yes, and he came promptly to my room. This time we did it in my bed. At this point anyone could have fucked me. I was destroyed. We did it again in the morning. We missed the first two meetings, coming in late.

At lunchtime Mr. Hunt asked me to see him. He wanted to know why I had been late and missed the first two morning meetings.

"I had a busy time last night," I said, trying to find some hint of guilt in his eyes. I could see him debating in his mind: how far could he push me?

"Come with me," he said. I obediently followed him. He took me to his room. "Want a raise?"

"What?" I said. "You took me to your room to ask me that?" I had a sinking feeling I knew why we were in his room.

"Your contributions to this retreat have been excellent, above and beyond. I'm giving you a 20% raise. Now undress," he said.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Hunt, but I can't become, uh become, uh..."

"You can't become my mistress, ready to fuck me at all times at my beck and call?" Mr. Hunt said.

"Yes, exactly," I said, "I cannot."

"I don't want that. I just want a blowjob. Now," he said, as he removed his pants and briefs. There was that lovely cock again, the one that had fucked me to smithereens the night before. I wondered if he had bathed?

"No," I said.

"No?" Mr. Hunt said, surprised.

"A 30% raise and I'll blow you and fuck you, too," I said.

"Is it okay if I watch?" my nemesis, Martin Peal, said as he emerged from Mr. Hunt's closet. I almost peed in my panties.

"No," I said. I glared at each of them, trying to kill them with the glare of death. Highly ineffective, that.

"That's a shame," Mr. Hunt said. "I promised him he could watch."

"Just who and what do you think I am?" I said.

"You're a girl who will suck and fuck for a raise," Martin said. "For 30% you should be willing to do both of us, don't you agree, Dutton?" Dutton! That was Mr. Hunt's first name. It was probably the maiden name of his mother or something. I preferred The Devil.

I was furious, humiliated and shamed. Hiding it, I said, "40% raise, Dutton, and it's a deal."

"35% is as high as I'll go. Strip now as a gesture of good faith," Mr. Hunt said. I almost laughed. Good faith? Seriously? Still, I stripped down to my bra and panties. Martin was there, after all, and I couldn't bear for that asshole to see me bare.

"I wish Brexit were this easy," Mr. Hunt said, as the two men ganged up on me and quickly and effortlessly finished undressing me. The two of them tossed me onto the bed and before I could recover they were all over me.

Before this retreat I had never had more than one man at a time. Last night I had had two men, one after the other. Now it was two men at once. I shivered at the shame of it all. To my great surprise, the shame turned me on. I was so wet.

I had never done anal before either. A lot of firsts occurred during that retreat!

When they were finally through with me, I was once again a total wreck. I was destroyed. I was humiliated to the core and full of the cum of three different men, counting Kevin earlier in the morning. My pussy was full to overflowing, I had cum coming out of my ass, and my tummy was queasy from all the spunk I had swallowed.

Mr. Hunt excused me from the rest of the meetings, and I returned to my room, asked for late checkout, and read the Mormon bible I had found in the drawer of the night table while I took a long, hot bath.

The thought of going home to my almost fiancé after all of my transgressions stressed me out. I donned my bikini and went to the pool and swam laps for an hour. I had the pool to myself, went back to my room and showered off the chlorine, checked out, walked to the train station and when the train finally pulled into Grand Central Station, I exhaled. It was good to be back in New York, away from the surreal happenings at the Stamford Marriott.

I went to a coffee house I knew that gave the option of adding a little CBD to your hot chocolate. They say a little CBD can alleviate one's anxiety. To say I was anxious was an understatement the size of Montana. Anyway, the chocolate and the CBD together both helped.

I held my breath and knocked on my almost fiancé's door. A short time later I was on my back once again comparing his apartment's ceiling to the ceilings of the Stamford Marriott's exercise room and its hotel rooms. My almost fiancé helped me to remember exactly why I planned to spend my life with him. He was no Kevin (is anyone?) but I love him and I loved fucking him.

"How was the retreat? I know you were dreading it," he said, in a little post coital pillow talk.

"It was stressful, but in the end," and I giggled, remembering Martin Peal's cock buried in my ass, "I got a hefty raise."

"Really? Who'd you have to fuck for that?" my almost fiancé asked, using his favorite off-color figure of speech.

"My boss and Martin Peal," I said. "At the same time."

"Martin Peal, your nemesis?" he said, and I giggled. He knew I hated Martin.

"Really? Both at the same time?" he asked.

"Yep. Martin up took me up my ass, but Mr. Hunt is shockingly conventional. It was straight sex for him," I said. "I'd never had two men inside me at once before."

"Anal seems appropriate for an asshole like Martin," my fiancé contributed, trying to suppress a laugh.

"What'd you expect?" I added.

We had a good laugh. My almost fiancé of course thought I was joking. I let him think that, while he idly fondled my breasts and played with my nipples. I'm not an idiot, after all. I wondered, though, if the company retreats were once a year, or twice a year? Time would tell, right?

What will happen at the next retreat? I gulped. As for the date of the next retreat, I had no idea. I guess I could always ask Kevin...

************

PS: I guess you've probably figured out that I'm not yet engaged. I know he's going to propose. Any day now he'll pop the question. He's probably just waiting until he finds the right diamond ring, or something, you know? Trust me, though, it's a sure thing he's going to propose. At least I think it's a sure thing. I hope it's a sure thing. Anyway, it's much more likely than Kevin getting a divorce, for example.

I know what you're thinking. It's 2019 for Pete's sake, and why can't I propose to him? I can of course. What if he said no? What if he said he'd think about it? I would just die. Then I'd meet the real Devil. I'll bet he's even worse than Mr. Hunt.

PPS: Did you know hotels have security cameras of the goings on in their exercise rooms? Mr. Hunt knew. He bribed someone to get a copy of the security footage for the period when I was - uh - busy in the exercise room. He mentioned it to me almost casually. I have no idea what he's planning to do with the footage, but I have a fear, a rather big fear, of what he might use it for. Mr. Hunt says I look cute when I'm terrified. I must look cute a lot these days.