Work Experience a Few Weeks Later

Literotic asexstories – Work Experience a Few Weeks Later by helen_surrey,helen_surrey
It seemed to be just a normal working day when it started.

We were expecting the arrival of a senior partner — someone known by everyone in the office except me, the teenage work experience girl — and he duly showed up around ten that morning.

I now know that he’s 52 years old but when I first saw Dave, I thought he was no older than his early forties. Although not super handsome, he was better than average. He seemed slightly overweight but, being tall, he looked powerful, certainly hard enough that you wouldn’t want to fight him.

What did stand out was his humour. From the moment he walked in, he had me laughing or giggling. He was a flirt, in a friendly not creepy way, and I instantly understood why he was liked.

So, I chatted with him, we laughed, and then he went to meet our office manager. When Dave came out, we talked again, laughed some more, and he left. Nothing unusual.

The next day, he sent me an email to welcome me aboard. Nice meeting you, looking forward to working with you, that sort of message. I responded by saying it had been fun meeting him and hoped to see him again.

That was the starting point, right there. He replied that he wouldn’t be returning to my office for a while but we could chat by email if I wanted. I liked the idea: chatting with this witty guy could be fun. I even gave him my personal email and text and asked him to stay in touch.

In the next few hours, he sent me various funny messages that obviously required thought and an understanding of my sense of humour. There was no doubt that I enjoyed the conversations and light flirting.

Dave sent good morning emails each day and we’d exchange messages during my quieter periods. Those conversations gradually became a little more personal, more risque and sexual, but I didn’t mind. I felt we were getting to know each other.

One particularly quiet day, he asked what I was doing and I admitted that work was slow. He said I should spice it up.

“How?”

“You’re a pretty girl, Helen. I’m sure you could spice up any room.”

“Hmm,” I wrote and asked for suggestions.

“I could definitely think of something.” He added a smiling emoji.

“Well, go on, tell me then.”

“Is that a challenge, a dare even?”

I hesitated. I’d played truth or dare in school; it was always sexual. Was this developing that way? What the hell, I thought, a dare or two might be fun.

“Yes, I dare you to tell me how to spice up my day.”

There was a brief pause. “Only if you promise to do it,” he sent.

I promised. Why not? After all, he was not in the office and no one could force me to do anything.

“Before I dare you, tell me what you’re wearing.”

“A blue pleated skirt and a cream blouse.”

He wanted more. How long was the skirt? How many buttons on the blouse? Was I wearing stockings? What was I wearing underneath? Well, he was in the Manchester office, so what was the harm in telling him? It was all fun, wasn’t it?

“Matching panties and bra,” I wrote. “White with pink lace.”

“Okay, right. So, here is your dare. Pull up your skirt so you can feel your bum against the seat. Let the front fall where it may.”

My desk was situated where everyone could see me, but people were busy and no one was looking my way. No problem. I pulled my skirt up my thighs then raised off my seat just enough to pull the material from under me. As I completed the dare, I looked to my left: a junior partner, Tom was looking at me.

I felt my heart jump. I was also hot, my cheeks flushing. My skirt hem was about two inches below my crotch when I was caught and I quickly informed Dave what had happened.

“How did you feel, getting caught?”

I admitted to a rush of excitement. Even though I was only nineteen and didn’t have a lot of sexual experience, I’d always liked being looked at. Showing off in this office had set my heart beating faster and I was very nervous. But it was fun.

I told Dave exactly how I felt and he asked if it was a thrill knowing I’d been caught. It was — and he asked if the guy was still checking me out. I looked across the room and saw Tom was still staring at me. Suddenly, he turned away. I told Dave he was looking at me.

I took a makeup mirror out of my drawer and positioned it on the desk where I could see Tom. He kept checking out my legs and I told Dave what was happening. He again asked me how I felt. I saw the pattern. Each time something happened, Dave asked me how I felt about it.

“Ready for your next dare?”

I was intrigued. Tom was still glancing my way when I told Dave I was ready.

“I dare you to slowly scratch your thigh almost all the way up to the edge of your pants, pulling up your skirt as you go.”

Hmm, I thought, if I did that dare, Tom would no doubt watch. The idea both scared and excited me. “Okay,” I agreed.

“I want to know when you’ve done it. And tell me what, if any, is the young sales rep’s reaction.”

I started scratching my thigh… oh yes, Tom was watching. In my mirror, I saw him glance away, clearly hoping I hadn’t caught him staring. Slowly, I slid my skirt up as I continued scratching and my voyeur looked away less and less. I eased the hem up until it was virtually in my lap, revealing more of my thighs. And, because I wasn’t sitting on my skirt, I also exposed large portions of my hips and ass.

By the time I’d virtually reached my panties, Tom was steadily staring. I pretended not to notice and eventually let go of my skirt. The front remained almost up to my waist. Indeed, if someone came to my desk, they’d see my pants. I’m not sure if Tom could see them from his position but I told Dave what I’d done.

Again, he asked how I felt. “Extremely nervous,” I confessed, “but it was really fun.”

“Were you turned on?”

My pussy was wet but I simply told Dave it had made me feel sexy.

“Want the next dare?”

Although I was excited and hot, I thought I should stop. “That’s enough for now,” I wrote and we resumed normal messaging.

Approaching my time to go home, Dave pressed me for “One more dare.” I doubted I’d do it but enquired what he had in mind.

“In future at work, you should wear only short skirts or dresses and, no matter what, always lift it out of the way and sit your ass directly on the seat.”

“We’ll see,” I replied and headed home.

The next morning, while looking in my closet to select something to wear, Dave’s words came to mind. What the heck! I put on a very short skirt.

Sitting at my desk, I did exactly what Dave had instructed — flipped up my skirt and sat my ass on the chair. I was sure Tom noticed.

There was the usual good morning and flirting from Dave before he asked, “So, what are you wearing? And are you sitting with your ass on the chair as I asked?”

“Yes, I am.”

He asked if my pants were showing and I looked down. I was wearing a thong and it was visible. “Yes, definitely.”

“Right, are you ready for another dare?”

I knew I should really stop these games but, honestly, I’d enjoyed doing them so much yesterday that I hadn’t been able to sleep until I’d brought myself all the way to a gasping orgasm. With that thought in mind, I wrote, “Sure, what’s next?”

The dare was to call Tom to my desk on the pretext of showing him something or asking a question. Well, if I did that, he’d see right up my skirt; my stocking tops and thong would be on full display. I told Dave I couldn’t do it.

“Yes you can,” he said and coaxed me until I finally agreed. I admit that I enjoyed the feeling of being told what to do and, anyway, I actually wanted to do it from the outset. I’d only hesitated because of possible employment consequences.

I beckoned Tom over and I seriously thought he was going to fall in his rush to reach my desk. From where he stood, he could obviously see my stocking tops and the tiny underwear covering my pussy mound. He tried not to stare but made a poor job of it.

I felt hot — and brave enough to push further back from my desk, giving him a clear view. I slowly got together the papers I’d called him to collect and he reluctantly returned to his desk.

I told Dave it was done and, of course, he asked how I felt. I was undeniably excited: showing off made me feel very sexy and I’d become aware of a trait I didn’t really realise I possessed. But, all I told him was, “This is hot.”

He asked me if I was ready for my next dare. Again, I knew I shouldn’t carry on but I couldn’t help myself, I was burning with curiosity.

It was nearly lunchtime and, being a poor college student, I usually ate at my desk while most of the staff went out. “Who’s in the office?” he asked.

“Tom and another junior partner, who seems to be working. I don’t think Tom wants to leave his desk.”

Another laughing emoji appeared, then, “Go to the bathroom and tuck your skirt into the back of your pants. When you come out, walk past the two guys. If they say anything about your skirt, fix it. But, if they don’t, when you sit down, pretend to notice and shout, ‘Oh my God! Why didn’t you tell me my skirt was caught?’ Got it?”

My heart was beating oh so very fast — wearing a thong meant I would flash my bare ass cheeks at the guys. I’m not exactly sure what motivated me, but I walked to the restroom. There, I looked into the mirror. My face was flushed and I also knew my thong was damp. I reached behind, tucked my skirt into the waist of my thong, and looked again into the mirror. With just a small part tucked inside, I didn’t show much flesh. I hesitated… then shoved in enough to fully expose my ass.

I took a deep breath and, with a pounding heart, walked out of the restroom toward the guys. I sensed they were staring when Bill suddenly said, “Excuse me, Helen, you’ve got your skirt caught in your… er, panties.”

I reached back, feigned surprise, and tugged it out of my waistband, thanking Bill at the same time.

He laughed. “I was enjoying the view,” he said, “and didn’t want to tell you. But, as a gentleman, I felt obliged.”

It was my turn to laugh and, for some reason that I still don’t understand, I flipped up my skirt and said, “There, happy now?”

As my skirt flapped back into place, Bill said, “Not really, but thank you, it was a start.”

At my desk, I told Dave exactly what had happened and he wrote, “Good girl.”

Being called that really made me feel special and Dave asked if I was having fun and ready for another dare.

Truthfully, I was having a lot of fun. Showing off was exciting. Being told what to do also excited me. As I sat down, I raised my skirt and noticed Tom looking. I smiled at him and he smiled back. Now he knew I didn’t mind him ogling me.

I was quite wet down below and, while letting Dave know I was feeling sexy and hot, I debated masturbating in the restroom.

“Are you wet?”

How did he know? It was Dave’s first direct reference to my body and I paused before confessing that I was somewhat damp between the legs. Again came, “Good girl” and I felt another rush of excitement.

Tom was still gazing across at me. “Take a picture,” I said, grinning, “it will last longer.”

“I should’ve taken a picture when you came out of the restroom.”

“Yeah,” I said, wriggling a little. “You’d probably like it if I walked around without a skirt for the rest of the day.”

“Of course, I would.”

“I’m not sure the rest of the office would appreciate it, though,” I said.

“They wouldn’t care,” said Tom. “Anyway, they’re not coming back this afternoon. They’re attending a meeting at our accounting firm.”

“Oh, didn’t know that. But what d’you think Bill would say?”

“I second Tom’s opinion,” Bill chimed in and we all laughed.

“Sounds a bit of fun,” I said, “but, sorry, I don’t think I should do it.”

I told Dave about the conversation and he instantly said I should do it. “No, that’s ridiculous,” I replied. “Anyway, what am I supposed to do? Just stand up and strip off my skirt in the middle of the office? No way.”

Dave proceeded to issue a list of instructions. “First, scratch your thigh as you did before. When you catch Tom looking, smile and say, ‘Enjoying the view?’ When he responds, say, ‘I suppose you really would like it if I worked without a skirt on.’ Whatever he replies, stand and say ‘What the hell,’ and let it fall to the floor.”

I could not believe it. No way could I do that. I mean, it was a flirty office but that would be crossing a line. Then again, as I read what he wanted me to do, I admit I almost came right there in my chair. I continued putting up some resistance. I didn’t say no — just that I didn’t think I could do it. I told him he was crazy and said the guys would freak out.

“I bet they would love it,” he wrote.

I looked over and, naturally, Tom was looking at me. We smiled at each other and I thought of Dave’s instructions. My right hand, seemingly with a will of its own, started scratching my thigh. As Tom watched and I looked at him, I pulled up my skirt as I’d done before. I repeated Dave’s words: “Are you enjoying the view?”

“You have great legs. I love the stockings.”

“I suppose you really would like it if I worked without a skirt on.”

I couldn’t believe I’d said it. My heart was racing at a mile a minute and I thought of Dave online waiting and wanting to give me the next step. What more could I do?

Then Tom’s voice broke into my thoughts. “You’re not brave enough.”

Wow, that gave me the excuse to do it. I quickly stood, unzipped my skirt, and let it slither around my ankles. Gazing at Tom, I said, “Is that better?”

He was open-mouthed and I noticed Bill was also staring at the vision of me standing at my desk in stockings and suspenders, thong, top, and heels.

Before Tom could respond, Bill said, “That’s almost perfect.”

I did a pirouette, said, “I hope you’re happy now,” and sat.

Typing another message to Dave, I squirmed in my seat as I recalled everything in my mind. I was hot as hell. I think if one of the guys had wanted to fuck me, I would’ve bent over my desk.

Dave responded, “I knew you could do it. Proud of you.”

That pleased me but why did I enjoy this stranger’s approval so much?

Bill then announced that he hadn’t noticed the colour of my thong and I repeated that comment to Dave.

“Well show him,” he replied.

Without hesitation, I stood and raised the hem of my top until my navel was exposed. “White and pink,” I declared, thrusting my hips at two speechless guys.

Bill was first to regain his senses. “You have a great belly.”

Tom asked if my bra matched and I told him it did. “I’d like to see it,” he said and I immediately lifted my top further to briefly reveal my half-cup bra.

Both colleagues said I had a great body and that my little bra and thong were cute.

“Thank you,” I said, smiling with pleasure at their compliments, “but I have work to do. I can’t be parading around half-naked all afternoon. ”

As I went to sit, Bill said, “Look, since you’ve flashed us your breasts threatening to spill out of that little bra, why not work without your top?”

“You wouldn’t get any work done,” I said and Bill replied that he was pretty up to date.

I laughed, pulled down my top, and sat at my desk to resume reporting to Dave.

“Are you enjoying showing off?”

I always knew I liked to flirt, but this was way past flirting. I was being rather provocative. As I thought that, a hot flash sizzled between my brain and pussy. I realised that the idea of showing off thrilled me to the bone. Yes, I was most definitely an exhibitionist.

After I’d been sitting for a few minutes, I noticed that the guys had restarted working. But I was having a hard time concentrating. All I could think about was standing up and discarding my top. I told Dave.

“Just do it.”

What? Just stand and whip off my shirt? Just like that? Could I really just do that? I sent my doubts to Dave.

“You’d love it. So would they.”

I couldn’t believe I was even considering this. The conversation about removing my top had passed minutes ago. If I did it now, it would be a deliberate act, not a response to teasing. Dave kept encouraging me online and my resistance got weaker and weaker. And my pussy got wetter and wetter. Finally, pussy won.

I stood and walked to a filing cabinet. I sensed the guys ogling my ass as I strutted across the room. When I eventually turned around, they were staring and I looked from one to the other.

I said one word — “Okay” — and whipped off my top. In the middle of the office in front of Bill and Tom, I was standing in only my bra, thong, and heels. I was ecstatic. They said I was beautiful and sexy and I watched Bill’s gaze lower to the thin white material stretched over my pussy. I quickly recognised that they could see my thong was soaked. I blushed, but I wanted them to know I was aroused. Looking at them appraising my body, simply made me wetter.

Bill was first to speak. “Looks like you’re enjoying this, too.”

We all knew it and I certainly couldn’t deny it. The evidence was there, wet before their eyes!

Returning to my desk, I was about to sit when Bill joked, “Don’t you want to put a towel down first?”

I laughed. “If I did, would you want to take the towel home?”

“You bet,” he said.

I messaged Dave the details and he quickly responded, “I knew when I met you that you had a little slut streak.”

Wow, slut? If someone had called me a slut the day before, I would have scratched their eyes out. Now, I accepted it as a compliment.

I’d never done anything like this before. I’d had sex four times with a nice guy because I thought it was time. I didn’t consider myself slutty. Yet, when Dave called me that, I liked it, even though I couldn’t explain why.

I told him what I was feeling. “Good girl,” he wrote.

Hmm, I thought when he told me what to say next. As I read it, I knew I shouldn’t comply — but I knew I would. I actually read it aloud straight from the screen, “Oh my god,” I blurted. “I didn’t realise my thong had soaked through like that.”

Both guys’ heads immediately bobbed up. Bill was obviously the quicker thinker. “Yeah, it’s certainly wet. In fact, transparent. Hell, it’s almost like you aren’t wearing that thong at all.”

As my pussy was shaved, I assumed they could see everything. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

Oh my goodness, did I just say that? I furiously typed, telling Dave what was happening.

“That’s my good little slut.”

I responded, “Thank you.”

Thank you? What is that all about? I’m thanking a guy for persuading me to sit brazenly in my office in bra and wet thong?

Yet, there was no denying I felt hot, sexy, grateful, and that I’d do anything he asked. The next thing he typed made me come. Yes, right there in my chair. I wasn’t fingering my pussy but I was leaning forward in my seat, rubbing my thighs together, trying to stimulate myself. Dave didn’t write anything dirty, but his command changed the whole dynamics of the situation… and the thrilling prospect had me instantly climaxing.

So far, I’d been reacting to his dares. Now, he wanted me to take the lead. I read, “Tell the guys they’re right. Your pants are soaked and they’re uncomfortable. Ask if they’d mind you removing them.”

I knew where this was going — if my thong came off, the guys would want to fuck me. I knew it and Dave knew it. Shamelessly, I was considering fucking two guys in my office, two guys I’d never even contemplated dating. What’s more, I knew I’d do it.

I could have pretended I was doing it for Dave — but I wasn’t. I wanted to fuck this pair. I, sweet Helen, only one lover in my past, was about to become a total slut, and I was thrilled by the idea. For me to go this far in one day, I had to admit I wanted it, that I wanted to be a slut, wanted to be told what to do. So, I didn’t resist. “Okay,” I told Dave.

It wasn’t even as hard as I imagined.

I hadn’t looked, but the guys had clearly noticed my orgasm. They were staring at me, again speechless. But, as Dave had prompted, I said, “It’s uncomfortable sitting in my wet thong. D’you mind if I take off?”

Tom still seemed dumbstruck as Bill quickly said, “Come over here, I’ll do it for you.”

I quickly typed that exchange and got an immediate response: “Go.”

I walked to Bill. It was only a few feet but it seemed like I’d run five miles. I was flushed, breathing heavily, and perspiring a little as Bill gaped at my soaked and completely transparent thong. I stood in front of him, arms hanging by my sides.

He looked up at my face. “Are you sure, Helen?”

I put my hands on his shoulders, looked him in the eye, and said, “Yes, Bill, I want my thong removed. Please, take it off.”

That was it. He eased the flimsy garment down my legs and I kicked it aside as Bill said, “You have a gorgeous pussy.”

My hands were still on his shoulders when Bill looked away from my groin and told Tom, “I think her bra should come off, too.”

He was right. I wanted to be naked. I needed these guys to see me naked.

Tom stood and walked toward us as Bill moved a hand across my thigh to my pussy. I trembled, then quivered in orgasmic pleasure when his thumb grazed my clit. Yes, I came again. I was on fire.

I kept my gaze on Bill as my bra clasp was undone. I turned my head to look at Tom and then shrugged the delicate scraps of material off my shoulders. I actually said, “Thank you,” and that was all it took; Bill knew who I was.

He looked into my eyes and said, “That’s a good slut.”

Hearing “good slut” spoken aloud was enough to make me come again without the additional pleasure of Bill’s fingers probing my squelching tunnel.

But Bill continued talking. “I’ve wanted to fuck you since I met you. Do you want me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” I answered quietly.

“What did you say?”

“Yes, I want you to fuck me.”

“And are you a slut?”

“Yes,” I muttered, trying to squeeze his fingers.

“What did you say?”

“I said, ‘Yes, I am a slut and I want to be fucked’.”

Bill pushed me to my knees and told me to pull out his cock. I’d not seen a lot of cocks and this looked the hardest one when I tugged it out of his pants. It was pointing at my face and I knew about oral sex. I had a decent idea of what to do, although this would be my first time.

“Suck it, you slut.”

Immediately, I wrapped my lips around his growing erection. I loved the way it felt in my mouth. I loved the way I felt. Bill kept moaning, calling me a slut, telling me to suck his cock, and saying I was a good slutty cocksucker. Every word made me want to please him more and more.

While I sucked, Tom unveiled his cock and stroked it. I could see him out of the corner of my eye. It was exhilarating that two cocks were hard because of me. I loved it.

Bill asked Tom, “Do you want some of this slut’s mouth?”

Surprisingly, Tom hesitated. But I reached out, grasped his half-erect cock, and pulled him close. “Please,” I said and he groaned when I popped his spongy dome into my salivating mouth.

Happily sucking, I was aware of Bill moving behind me. I knew about doggie-style fucking despite never having done it and was ready when Bill ordered, “Get that slutty ass up in the air.”

As I obeyed, I grabbed Tom’s hand and pulled him to the floor so that I could continue sucking him. Bill rubbed his rigid erection against my pussy. I was dripping and when his dome touched my clit I went off again.

Bill told Tom, “This slut’s cunt is dripping wet.”

Cunt? Yesterday, I would have stabbed him. Today, I loved how it sounded. I wanted to hear it again. I even wanted to say it.

His cock pressed against my entrance. I wanted it in me. Needed it now. Right now. “Please,” I begged, “give it to me, fuck me.”

Bill was experienced. “I’m not fucking you,” he said. “I’m fucking your little slut cunt.”

I came again.

When Bill pierced me, I’d never felt anything like it. It wasn’t that his cock was special, but being there, in the office with two guys, had every nerve in my body tingling. I gasped when he entered me.

“That’s it, slut… take my cock. Fuck me.”

I pushed back at him, feeling every inch of his cock sliding in and out, up and down. Every movement sent hot jolts through my pussy and I gasped around Tom’s cock in my mouth.

I tried to envisage how we looked. I knew guys admired my taut ass and I wished I could get a picture — oh, fuck, that thought had me coming again. As I released, I felt Tom’s cock throb and heard, “Oh my god, I’m going to shoot.”

I started to pull away but Bill held my head down. “No you don’t,” he said, “good sluts swallow. Take every drop.”

Amazingly, I came again.

Tom squirted into my mouth, kept pumping, and I swallowed and swallowed, but I wasn’t fast enough. Some dripped out and when I pulled off his cock, the last stream hit my cheek.

I felt bad. I should’ve taken it all but I failed. So I was relieved when Bill said, “That’s a good slut. You look fine with a slug on your face.”

Tom rolled away and Bill pushed my head to the floor, raising my ass higher. He plunged into me harder and quicker. I loved it.

“Are you ready for a cunt full of come, slut?”

“Yes,” I gasped.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, I want your come.”

“Tell me more.”

I screamed, virtually screeched. “Fuck me, fuck me hard. Fill my slutty little cunt with come. Make me a slut. Fill me up. Give me all your come.”

I’d used a condom with my boyfriend and when we broke up, I went on the pill. This was the first time I felt come shooting inside me. It was incredible. It was hot, I felt our juices mingling around Bill’s thrusting cock and dripping out of my pussy. I came so hard this time I went limp and Bill held onto my hips to prevent me from collapsing.

I didn’t think I could carry on for another minute or that fucking could ever get any better. I was wrong.

Remarkably, Tom’s cock was hard and I now realised that it was larger than Bill’s. Perhaps not a lot but impressively fatter and longer. What’s more, he was now up for it. “Get that slutty little ass over here so I can fuck you.”

I did as told. With my ass again in the air, I felt his cock invading me. Even though I was soaking with loads of juices in me, I felt the size difference when he shoved between my pussy lips. I felt full in there, totally stretched — and it was wonderful.

Tom began fucking me with awesome determination, firm and fast, long and hard, all the time calling me a slut and asking me what I wanted. I was happy to respond.

“Fuck me… fuck me like the slut I am. Fuck my come-filled cunt. Give me your load. Shoot in me.”

I’d no idea that I could talk like that, but every filthy word had me tingling. And I loved the feel of Tom’s thick cock banging into me. Then I felt him spasm. He expanded so quickly and I felt his come splash my pussy walls, felt it oozing out of me, coating his still-plunging cock. It was phenomenal.

My orgasm — how many today? –was like nothing I can describe. But I was definitely finished: exhausted, sweaty, satiated, quivering, gasping for oxygen.

It was almost closing time and, when the guys went to their restroom to clean up, I took a breather before seeking my clothes. Bill emerged first and I wasn’t sure how to act. Naked, so much fluid dripping down my legs, I couldn’t look at him.

Bill walked up and hugged me, kissed my damp forehead. Sweetly, he said, “Helen, you’re a very special girl. We adore you.”

At that moment, I felt safe and cared for.

Bill handed me a clean towel. It probably came from his gym bag. He walked me to the restroom where I wiped clean while he collected my skirt and brought it to me. After I’d dressed, Bill and Tom took turns embracing me before they left. They were so sweet.

At my desk, I messaged Dave, asking if he was still there. He responded so I relayed what had happened and, naturally, he asked many questions. At one point, I played with myself as I recalled the sex and — yes, believe it — I came again.

It was time to go home. I went to sign off and Dave’s last words were, “Good Girl.”

Driving home, I replayed the day over and over in my head. I must admit, it was the hottest thing I’d ever done and I also feared that I’d risked my job. What will the guys think of me on Monday? What if they tell others? That part scared and excited me. Why excited? Would I really want others to know what a slut I’d been?

I eventually understood that Dave was actually a bad influence on me. I resolved not to talk to him again. I failed…