"And you think that's okay?" I asked.
"Sure," he replied. "He's a guy. Guys piss anywhere. Didn't you know that?"
"Uh, I think I'm seeing a clear difference between the sexes here," I said. "We are literally two minutes from being in our hotel room, which has a restroom, yet he'd rather fucking piss on the wall of the parking garage. Damn, boys are weird."
Mark laughed, as Stan finished his business, zipped himself up, and walked back over to us.
"Alright campers, are we ready to go up?" said Stan.
We nodded and took the elevator up to our room. We were up pretty high, and it was sweltering in the room. It must have been ninety degrees with ninety-percent humidity. We left the windows open while we were gone, which was obviously a mistake. It was extremely hot that day.
"Damn, it is fucking hot up here," I said. "Let's see if we can get some air-conditioning going." I shut the window, as Mark went over to the air-conditioning unit and twisted a few knobs.
"I don't think this shit is going to work," said Mark, twisting and turning the controls of the unit. "The air coming out of this thing is so faint that it is not going to make a difference. We are probably just better off opening the windows again and waiting for it to cool down."
"Shit," I said. "It is bad enough that our reservations got fucked up, but now we have to try to sleep in a sweat box tonight." I could already feel myself sweating under my arms, between my legs, and down the crack of my ass, and we had only been in the room for a few minutes. Yet I was forced to open the window again, to let in some hot, but fresh, air.
"I'll get some ice for the scotch," said Mark. "That will keep us cool tonight, I think."
"Booze doesn't keep one cool, Mark," I said.
"But it will help take our mind off of the heat," interjected Stan.
I didn't reply. If these guys wanted to go on a severe bender this evening, I thought, that is fine. Just to keep my sanity around those guys, I decided that I better have a few drinks as well. When Mark got back, he started pouring us drinks. It tasted a little strong at first, but gradually it started going down as smooth as water. Shit, I thought, this stuff was pretty good. I also noticed that I was feeling warmer with each passing second.
"I'm sweating like a pig up here, guys," I complained. "I need to shed the outfit a little." I took off my blouse, bra, shoes, and slacks. I was wearing panties on this day, but at that moment it was all I was wearing. My clothes were adorned with patches of soaked-through sweat. They were pretty funky and gross.
Maybe it was because Stan and Mark were drunk, but they both had to act like wise guys while I undressed.
"Ooh yeah, skin show!" cheered Stan.
"Right on," added Mark.
"Come on, guys," I pleaded. "Fucking have some dignity; we are on a business trip. You already saw my goods this morning, and it feels hot as hell in here. Keep the catcalls to yourselves."
The guys straightened up a little, even though by now they were smashed. They were both sweating profusely, so they started to disrobe as well. I didn't have a problem with this, as I had taken the lead in that regard.
"Hey," said Stan, looking in my direction. "Do you mind if I go au naturale?"
"I don't care," I replied. "It is a sauna up here. Do what you want."
"I think I'll do the same," said Mark.
They both stripped completely nude. I had seen Stan's penis earlier in the morning, but this was my first time seeing Mark's. His pubic hair was nicely trimmed, and his cock seemed to be of average size and girth.
"Hey Jane," said Mark. "Are you going to lose those panties of yours also?"
What the hell. I was still sweating down the crack of my ass due to the heat. I might as well get rid of them.
"Sure." I stood up, rolled my panties down my sticky frame, and tossed them on the ground. I figured I'd pack my laundry before we left on Saturday morning. At that moment, my entire body was coated in a thin layer of sweat. I don't think anyone could have prepared me for summertime in New Orleans.
Then Stan reached down, picked my panties up off of the ground, and gave them a deep sniff.
"What the fuck are you doing?" I asked indignantly.
"Just checking out what you smell like," he said.
"Well, what does she smell like?" asked Mark. "Fish or chicken?" he laughed.
"Stop the rudeness, guys," I ordered. "I'm not taking shit from either of you. You are going to put an end to that shit right now."
"I'm just kidding," said Mark. "Really, Jane, we respect you on a personal and professional level. And I just want to say, on a side note, that you keep in beautiful shape. You really have a lovely frame. I enjoyed seeing you nude this morning. Seriously."
"Yeah, me too," said Stan. "We are just joking. You always bail our asses out at work, and it is an honor to be on this trip with you. I know it hasn't turned out the way you expected, but please know that we respect you immensely."
Maybe it was the booze running through my brain, but they seemed to be sincere.
"So why are you sniffing my panties?" I asked Stan.
"Because I think you are beautiful and attractive," replied Stan. "Other than my wife, I have never been close to another girl, and I just wanted to see whether your scents were the same."
"All girls are different, Stan," I said. "I hope I smell okay."
"You smell beautiful," said Stan, before again putting the panties up to his nose for another whiff.
"I think you smell great too," added Mark. "I always love walking by your cube at work, because you wear the nicest perfumes. Hey Stan, toss those panties my way."
Stan savored another whiff before tossing my panties over to Mark. He caught them and immediately put them up to his nose. As he sniffed them--and this was very amusing--I could see that his cock was starting to harden. I wasn't going to bring it up, but it was getting to be pretty obvious. Soon Stan noticed.
"Oh, buddy, it looks like Jane's scent is making you 'swing some wood,' if you know what I mean," giggled Stan.
At that point, we all started laughing. It was really funny. Mark was totally blushing. Seeing Mark get hard from sniffing my panties actually made me feel good. I felt attractive and womanly.
"So another mystery is revealed," I joked. "I'd let you keep those panties, Mark, but I don't think your wife would like finding them."
"Fuck, she would cut off my dick if she knew about this," he said.
As I sat there looking at Mark, I became mesmerized by his hardening cock. It seemed to grow a little differently that of my boyfriend, who gets rock hard quickly. In contrast, Mark's cock seemed to gain hardness and length slowly, yet remain slightly pliable. I wanted to touch it.
"Well, I'll take your erection as a compliment, Mark," I said. "But say, can I just touch that thing for a second?"
I knew my request was crossing the line, but we were all friends and had been drinking way too much. At the time, the combination made it feel as though it was within the bounds of decorum.
"Yeah," replied Mark. "You can touch it. But I want to touch your pussy, though. You have the most amazing, thick, juicy labia. It is so much different than my wife's. Is it alright if I touch it? I'm curious."
I thought about it for a moment. Should I, or should I not, let Mark touch me? Stan, sitting over to the side of me, didn't say a word. I decided to clarify my intent.
"What I am asking is different from what you are asking, Mark," I said.
"Because you are in a committed, married relationship and I'm not," I said.
"Well, you have a boyfriend, right?" he asked.
"Yeah, but I'm never going to marry the guy," I said. "There is a little more leeway to 'play' when one is not married."
Mark, whose mind was flooded with booze, paused while trying to refashion his argument. "But I don't think copping a benign feel is cheating, is it? And if it is, does it matter if one has a spouse or a boyfriend?"
"It does to me," I said. I looked over to Stan, who was haphazardly touching his cock while he listened. "What do you think?"
"I'm not sure," he said. "Frankly, I'm too fucking drunk to think about it." Stan wiped the sweat from his brow and then resumed slowly touching his cock. He too was becoming erect. "All I know is this: there is a certain amount of sexual tension here. Jane, we both think you are beautiful. You just said that you want to touch Mark's cock. In terms of sexuality, everyone is different. I don't think that there is any harm in exploring one another, if it is consensual and educational. I think we are all a little pent-up and curious at this point."
I took the initiative. Without saying a word, I got up from my bed and walked over to my bag to retrieve some hand lotion. I probably could have just used sweat from any one of our bodies, because it was horribly humid and we were hot and sticky, but the hand lotion had a better aroma. Then I walked in front of Mark and told him to lie down. After pouring a dab of lotion in my hand, I rubbed it into my fingers and palm, so that my hands were wet and creamy. Then I placed my hands onto Mark's erect penis and started stroking it slowly but firmly up and down, twisting my fingers as I worked my way up toward his bulbous tip.
"Oh my fucking God," moaned Mark. "That feels so fucking good."
I worked my hands around his shaft as though I was trying to milk him, yet I did not want him to cum. I continued my hand-job on him for a couple of minutes, but stopped before he blew his milky seed. He looked painfully on edge--he was craving release. On my end, the sight and feel of his penis was a major turn-on. I could feel my moistness increasing between my legs, and I'm sure both guys could smell my scent. Yeah, I had already been warm, but now I was a sweaty, creamy, hormonal mess.
"Thanks for the feel," I said to Mark, as I took my hands off of him. He looked frustrated that I did not finish him off, but in a few seconds seemed to be okay with it. After all, I told him that I just wanted to feel his cock, not make him cum. I was under no obligation to take him over the edge.
Mark then sat up and placed his hands on my shoulders. "Now I get to touch you," he said softly, pushing me back on the bed. I spread my legs to give him full access to my pussy. He started to run his fingers slowly up and down my labia, clearly fascinated by my engorged folds, and then moved his fingers up toward my clit. When he touched my clit, I almost jumped out of my skin in excitement.
"Shit, Mark," I moaned, putting my hand on top of his as he fondled my clit, rubbing it in a circular motion. "Don't stop," I begged, arching my hips to meet his heavenly rubbing. He then slipped a finger inside of me, and moved it in and out. Then he put two fingers into me; then three. I was hot and dying for release, my pussy gripping his fingers like a vice.
Then he stopped, pulled his fingers out of me, and licked them clean.
"Feel good?" he asked, smiling.
Surely he knew damn well that it felt good on my end. My brain was reeling from the pleasure. "Oh, yes, Mark. Oh, yes," I purred, trying to regain control of my breaths.
We all sat up on our beds. I looked over at Stan, and he had been stroking himself as he watched Mark and I. We were all hot and bothered. I felt like asking them (either of them, as it didn't matter) to fuck me, but we weren't there yet. Our bodies craved release and satisfaction, but we were in committed relationships and worked together. It wouldn't be right.
"So, Jane, how did you gain that muscle control?" asked Mark. "You were gripping my fingers pretty tightly."
I did not answer immediately, as I was transfixed by the sight of his creamy, glistening cock, which was now oozing precum from its tip. I could not take my eyes off of it. I wanted it.
"I do Kegel exercises," I eventually replied. "It makes my orgasms stronger, in addition to making my pussy tighter."
"Your boyfriend must like that," added Stan, who was still fondling himself.
"He does," I added. "When I work him hard, he tends to last only a few minutes at the most. Sometimes I can get him off in seconds. But he is always good for a second round."
"Damn," interjected Mark. "I wish my wife were that tight."
"Same here," said Stan. "But I don't think there is any way you could get a guy off in seconds."
"Yes I can," I said. "Believe me. I've been doing it for years."
Stan looked at me squarely in the eyes. "Prove it," he dared, as beads of sweat cascaded from his frame, down his half-erect cock, and dripped to the floor.
"I'm not going to let you fuck me, Stan," I said. "You are married, have a mortgage, and three kids, including a child that is three months old. And we work together. No, I shouldn't let you fuck me."
Even as those last words escaped my lips, I recognized that my response went from "not" to "shouldn't," leaving a slight opening for negotiation. Oh, yes, I wanted to fuck him, however wrong it would be.
"Well, let's make a bet then," said Stan. "I'll bet you $500 that you can't bring me off in under three minutes."
Hmm, three minutes. I could win that bet. As randy as he probably was, I thought my chances of getting him off in far less than that timeframe were also pretty good.
"And what if I get you off in under two minutes?" I asked.
"We can double it to $1000. Conversely, if I last more than five minutes, you will owe me $1000. And if we reach that mark, I get to continue fucking you until I'm done, okay? Even if it takes me an hour," said Stan, smiling but deadly serious.
I looked over at Mark. He was licking his chops at the thought of seeing me get fucked. OMG, he was excited, but he didn't say anything.
"It is not going to take you an hour. Trust me. I accept the bet," I replied. "Let's go over to the table in the corner. I think you will enjoy the angle a little more, as it is a little higher than the beds. Mark, can you help?"
We moved some of the pillows onto the table in the corner. I hopped up onto the table and got comfortable. I positioned my ass right to the edge of the table, with my legs dangling freely over the edge. We were going to fuck in the missionary position, right there in front of Mark.
Stan came over and gave me a good looking over--he had the look of pure, undiluted desire. I'm sure he wanted to win the bet, but I think he wanted a piece of my flesh just as much, regardless of whether he won. At that moment, I recalled his earlier statement that he had never been with another woman other than his wife. I was going to be only the second girl he ever fucked. He was thirty-eight. And I was going to milk him dry, right there on the table.
Stan moved between my legs, and then licked his palm and fingers. He used his spit to stroke himself to a full, hard erection. While he was readying himself, I casually fingered my moist slit, waiting for him. The thoughts running through my mind were surreal. I had never fucked a coworker before, and here I was going to fuck one in front of another coworker (yikes--how slutty). I reached down between Stan's legs to feel that rig of his. It was about six and a half inches, and it was thick--far thicker than my boyfriend's. Yeah, this will feel nice, I thought. I continued to stroke it, touching its purple tip, until he was ready. I was ready too.
"You on the pill?" asked Stan.
"Yep," I said confidently. "Let's rock, baby."
"Can you keep time?" Stan asked Mark.
Mark pulled out his watch. "I'm ready. Time will begin when the very tip of your penis penetrates her."
I lay back on the table, my ass to its edge, my legs dangling in the air. He grabbed me by my hips and positioned himself directly at my dripping, sweaty, creamy opening. I closed my eyes, and prepared myself for the physical exertion that would be forthcoming. I was determined to grind him and milk him into the stratosphere. I wanted to make him blow his seed and his mind. Within seconds, I felt his large, throbbing cock head at my entrance, gradually pushing into me, inch by glorious inch.
"Time starts now," said Mark.
"Oh, my," said Stan, as he pushed into me. "Oooh, girl, this is going to be tough." He exhaled deeply as he took his first few slow, deep thrusts. "God you feel good."
Stan felt great inside me, filling me completely. I've always been more impressed by a cock's girth than its length, and Stan, as he started working me over, was one of the largest men I ever had. Oh, he felt nice, touching all of my nerve endings. Yet I knew I had to get working. I sat up slightly while we fucked and used my right hand to grab his left hip. I made sure that he continued fucking me in a steady, even pace, and didn't slow down to keep from blowing his seed too early. No, I was going to keep the pace at an even tempo and get him off. That was my primary goal. Within seconds I started flexing all of my abdominal muscles, in an effort to grind the cream right out of his thick rod.
"Fifty seconds," said Mark, who was keeping time while drooling at the sight of us.
"Fucking work my pussy, baby," I urged, looking straight into his eyes. "Come on, Stan, fucking cream that pussy," I huffed.
I knew talking dirty to him would help my cause, and I think it did, as he eventually closed his eyes to avoid making eye contact with me. I think the sights, sounds, and sensations were getting to him. Beads of sweat coated his entire body. When he started to thrust into me somewhat irregularly, I grabbed both of his hips and hammered him into me hard.
"Oh fuck, oh shit..." huffed Stan, cascading towards the edge.
"One minute, thirty seconds," said Mark.
I continued to clasp and grind Stan's cock with my greedy pussy. I began to flex the muscles in my ass, gyrating my hips slightly to the thrusts of his pulsating member. His eyes remained closed, lost in time and space, huffing, trying to keep it together.
"Come on, Stanley, give me that cream, honey," I begged. "Fucking cream my pussy, baby."
"Two minutes, ten seconds," said Mark.
My time was running out. The best I could do, if I got Stan off in the next forty seconds, would be to make $500. Happily, I still felt as though I had a chance to win. I used every muscle in my body to work him completely over.
"Two minutes, thirty seconds," added Mark.
"Give it to me, Stanley," I huffed. "Fucking breed me, baby. Fucking breed my coworker pussy right now, right on this fucking table, honey baby."
That set him off. Stan arched his back, grunted deeply, and buried himself into me fully. The strength of his passion made me feel as though I was being ripped apart. He became massive as he pumped load after milky load of cream into my womanly depths. The sensations were a mixture of pain and pleasure, causing my eyes to widen, my lips to emit soft screams, and my body to tense. I then joined him in orgasmic bliss. I wasn't sure--and didn't care at that moment--whether I had won the bet. Buried into me to his hilt, with his manhood throbbing, stretching, and creaming inside of me, at that moment Stan and I became one.
Stan then collapsed on top of me, with his throbbing meat still oozing seed inside of my womanhood. We were hot, sweating, and shaking. I pulled him close to me, and whispered, "Stay here for a minute." What started three minutes earlier as casual sex with a coworker now seemed so much more intimate when we reached our mutual orgasms. We remained on the table for what seemed like an eternity, as a pile of conjoined, creamed flesh. Eventually he got up and pulled out of me, his cock now flaccid. I sat up and noticed his milky vitality dripping from me. If I had not been on the pill, yes, he most certainly would have likely impregnated me. I must have drained every last drop of the fluids from his prostate, seminal vesicles, and testicles.