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Part 2: Sex Sells
by Shayla Pandava
This is Part 2 of our ongoing story, Sex Sells. If you missed Part 1, it is alive and well and lliving in our archives. You can look it up and read it there. But til then, here’s where we left off last week:
"He liked, I could tell. I’d have him breaking our no-sex clause in no time. The tight red elastic pinched my thighs like bondage and it was a turnon. I spread my legs against the elastic, thrust my cunt forward, pushed my finger into the slit (yeah it was wet) and fingered myself. ’I want you to eat this,’ I said, my free finger pointing to my crotch."
Now for part 2:]
He put the drinks down on a buffet table. He came in close to me all clean smelling. He lowered his head onto the crook of my shoulder, his hand lightly brushing my hair. I took his hand and placed it on my breast. I squirmed a little. I swear, in fact, that the breast squirmed all on its own. I think my breasts have minds of their own sometimes.
"I’m here to help you get business, remember?" he said, affectionately. Or so it would be if he were a real lover. It sounded all soft. It sure rolled off his tongue like affection. He gave my breast a sweet squeeze before he removed his hand. Aye!
"And to make me feel hot," I panted, still playing with myself. With my fingers skidding on pussy lube I squeezed my clit. It felt so good to have him watching me. He put his warm fingers over mine.
"I’d say you are hot," he mumbled.
I forced my legs wider, stretching the red lace to its breaking point. I tried taking his fingers and pushing them into my cunt.
"You need to get back out there," he whispered. He licked his fingers. It was flattering, and yet he had pulled his hand away to do so. Very classy avoidance move. It was then that I realized how smooth he was.
And you know, it infuriated me. "I’m paying you," I said.
"I know you are," he answered.
"So go down on me."
"You’re paying me to help you make money, remember?" I noticed that he didn’t say what I wasn’t getting for my money.
"I’ll pay you more to eat me," I said. I felt an uncontrolled trickle spill from my lower lips.
"Not here," he said. He nodded mischievously at the door, like a schoolboy who didn’t want to get caught.
He patted the back of my hand, the one in my bush, and he pulled it aside and set it, wet fingers and all, on my thigh.
"Believe me," he said, "you’ve got me so hard I want to slip into you right here."
"Then do it." I touched his crotch. Yes, his cock was hard. But he held my hand softly in place.
"One of us has to have some restraint," he said, "and you’re paying me to be the one." He patted my bush like it was his pet kitty. I wanted his hand to push in further, into the ooze. "You’ll thank me later," he said.
He backed away, staring at my crotch and holding his hand over his hard penis. It made me drip just to have him hard and looking intensely at my bared pussy like that.
"Eat me now or I’ll fire you," I said. He could have said, "no you won’t," because I wouldn’t. He was paid anyway. Or paid minus tip. Which I’m sure he expected to be big as his dick.
Nor did I have any intention of going from being a faceless name in my business to being "the one who got dumped at the project gala." But I did think to myself: when it comes time to pay him his tip, I’ll stage a strip tease he can’t refuse. It would be fun -- to see what would happen.
He stepped back into me, still cradling his cock, and he pressed his body flat up against mine -- that press was like sex itself, I tell you -- and he whispered into my ear.
"You’re making it really hard," he said with that bad boy grin.
"So, eat me."
"I want to eat you, just drop right here and force my tongue into you -- break our deal, maybe risk your reputation. Is that what you want?"
"Yeah." Maybe I was just toying with him to see how he’d play things. Or maybe I was reckless with desire. But suddenly I heard a woman and a guy talking in low tones outside in the hallway, near the door. I should have felt exposed, but I only felt hungry.
I spread my cunt lips till the hole opened. It felt good, thinking of him in there. I ran my finger in a circular motion over the mucus. I made my clit wiggle in lather. "Look what’s waiting," I meowed.
"Under other circumstances, I’d drop to my knees in a second, just for a taste of you. But someone’s out there," he answered. The elastic red lace of my lowered underwear bound my thighs and made me feel that if he did start to eat my pussy, I wouldn’t be able to move. My tense clit would be captive to his tongue. It excited me all the more.
"Go on, then. Drop," I whispered practically breathless. "Never mind who’s out there." I could hear rustling from outside the door, but the talking had stopped.
He laid a couple of silky kisses on my ear, his breathing deep, animal. "But then you’d hate me for compromising you. Especially if these people walked in on us, like they’re about to do. You have a lot to lose here and it’s my job to make sure that you don’t."
But for the first time he put his hand directly on my cunt, between the lips, the place I’d tried to drag it to before, the place that wanted to feel him, where I was well and truly wet. His fingers made me tingle, and more juice escaped from my hole. A wet hole knows no discretion.
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